Meet You at Midnight
by kg2
Summary: A/U. Fitz Grant is an actor. Olivia Pope is a teacher. They meet one night and the rest is this story. This is about people figure out who they really are with the help of the person who, as it turns out, knows them better than anyone else.
1. Chapter 1

Fitz Grant had a reputation.

It had started almost fifteen years ago after his first studio film. He had been doing theater work and small independent films, but when he took on the supporting role in an epic about fighters in ancient Rome, everything changed. Personally and professionally.

His talent, which had gone under the radar up to that point, was suddenly in demand. His business team fielded calls, read scripts and scheduled interviews. He hated all of it. He just wanted to act, work with other actors and live a quiet life in between jobs. He tried firing his team and managing his own career, but the sheer volume of offers and inquisitions was too much for him to handle on his own. So instead of quitting altogether, which he had considered, he became extremely selective about movie roles. He tried to only do projects that inspired and challenged him. He was nominated for two Academy Awards. He turned down superhero roles and opportunities for six sequels and action figures. He was a social activist at times, particularly about human rights and animal issues, but was rarely seen in public. Always doing work behind the scenes.

This method of living and acting led to constant rumors about his personal life. He had been in one serious relationship with a former costar over a decade ago, but since had spent most of his free time with his family (two parents, three sisters) and at his home in Kauai (on the south shore, on a bluff overlooking the Pacific). He had an apartment in New York, and he liked it there just fine, but he enjoyed solitude. In that sense, the idea that he was a recluse, as had been repeatedly reported by the press, was not completely false.

So Fitz's reputation was that he was incredibly private and serious, probably doing or growing drugs on his property in Hawaii and extremely selective when it came to his movies. Is it still called a reputation if most of it is true? The real issue is that the press sensationalized everything. He was private, sure, but with his friends and family he could be incredibly obnoxious. A "smug asshole at times," according to his youngest sister Juliette. He did not do drugs. He was very selective when it came to movies, but he resented anyone who tried to use that as a criticism. He took his job very seriously, and just because he didn't want to be the new Batman doesn't mean he doesn't feel grateful for all of the good in his life.

It was this strange dichotomy between what is real and what is reported that Fitz was thinking about as he sipped his drink at the corner bar near his apartment in the West Village of Manhattan. He knew the bartender, Henry, as well as one can know a bartender who has boundaries. It had recently been reported that Fitz had trashed his apartment and was living in a nearby hotel; this was inaccurate and Fitz had just had a laugh about it with Henry.

"I figured, man. I knew you wouldn't leave the Village," Henry said as he wiped down the bar next to Fitz. A couple had just finished a night cap, leaving the bar empty except for Fitz, Henry and a group of women in the corner.

Fitz laughed. "Exactly. It has everything I could ever hope to get out of this city. And who else knows exactly how I like my drink?"

"I'm honored, man. Whenever anyone asks me about you, after you've been here, and I say you're kind, funny and generous with your time and energy, people think I'm giving them shit."

"Generous with my time and energy?" Fitz asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I've been mediating, Mr. G. Keeps me centered."

"See," Fitz said, finishing off his whiskey and soda, "this is the best of New York right here. You're an evolving creature, Henry, just like me. I'm glad to know you."

Henry filled a water glass for Fitz, knowing it was about the time when he would head out. He filled one for himself.

"Cheers, Henry. Thanks for not believing everything you see on Entertainment Tonight."

A voice Fitz had never heard before sounded from behind him.

"Is Entertainment Tonight even still a show? I used to watch that with my mom after dinner while we folded laundry."

"Olivia!" Henry exclaimed, as Fitz slowly turned in his bar stool.

She was wearing tight jeans and black long sleeved t-shirt. Not fancy, but still put together. He hair was curly and pulled into a ponytail. Her caramel skin was make-up free and flawless.

"I used to do the same, actually," Fitz said, looking her in the eye. "Except I wasn't allowed to help fold laundry, so I brushed the family poodle instead."

"Must have been a thing. Laundry and shows about famous people. Mindless for the mindless," Olivia said, with a smile.

"Olivia, welcome back. What has it been, six months?" Henry asked, winking at her.

"About, yeah. Is this seat taken?" she asked, gesturing to the chair beside Fitz.

"No, of course not. Please," he said, pulling the stool out for her.

"Right, so I've been traveling for work. I'm just in town for tonight, actually, but I felt like I couldn't relax until I came for my drink and my catch-up time with Henry."

"Whoa," Fitz said, putting his water down. "Henry is mine."

Olivia giggled. "I'm sorry to say, but he's mine."

Henry put his hands up. "Don't make me choose. You're both very special to me." He handed Olivia her red wine and headed over to the only other patrons who were looking to order another round.

"There's just something about his drinks, isn't there?" Fitz said, nodding at her glass.

"Absolutely," she said, taking a small sip. "You'll have to forgive me. I come here expecting to have the place to myself. And now I find out there's someone else in Henry's life?"

"I know, it's disturbing. To think we were floating through life not knowing we both thought we were his favorite."

"Everything has changed," she agreed.

They looked at each other for a moment. Fitz found himself, for the first time in as long as he could remember, not in full control of his feelings.

"So, Olivia, was it?" he asked, clearing his throat.

"Yes. Olivia," she said, putting out her hand.

"Fitz," he said, placing his hand in hers. They shook.

"Nice to meet you, Fitz," Olivia said, tucking her long bangs behind her ear.

"You said you were traveling for work?"

"Yes. I'm a teacher. But over the summers I work with the YMCA and travel with groups of kids on week-long, I don't know, adventures? These are kids who would otherwise be left to their own devices and who work or are granted scholarships to be able to sail for a week in the Caribbean or build a house in Detroit. That's where I've been."

"Wow, so now summers off for you, huh? It sounds both rewarding and exhausting." Fitz was enamored.

"You're exactly right," Olivia said as she finished off her drink. "It's good work, and it affords me opportunities I wouldn't otherwise have. If I'm being honest, there are times I wish I were in my apartment alone with a book and some tea. But it keeps me busy. Keeps me focused. Keeps me energized."

Fitz processed this.

"What do you do?" she asked. But before Fitz could answer, she put her hand up to stop him.

"Wait. I'm sorry. I'm a terrible liar. I know who you are."

He laughed. "You just gave yourself away! You really must be a horrible liar if you give yourself up before I even start talking."

She laughed. "What can I say? Honest to a fault."

There was a comfortable silence then.

"So, as you know, I'm an actor. Film mostly. I've done some theater but that was mostly earlier in my career. Back when I was younger and could work six days and nights a week. Like a teacher, except without the pressure."

"Hey, don't sell yourself short. I saw you in 'Our Town' twelve years ago. You were fantastic and moving. There's pressure there to do a good job, do the play justice, entertain folks who paid money to see you."

"That's very kind of you. 'Our Town,' huh? How do you even remember that?"

"It was my birthday. I asked my boyfriend at the time to take me."

"I see," Fitz said, shocking himself with his follow-up question. "How old were you turning, eleven?"

She rolled her eyes. "Please. I was 19. College."

It was easy to do the math. He was only two years older than her.

"I was in college, too. I had to take a leave of absence to do that play. I never finished."

"Do you wish you would have?"

"Sometimes," Fitz replied. "I'm pretty gratified in what I do. But I do love learning. I always feel like there's more to know. So in that sense I'm sorry to have missed the opportunity."

"That makes sense. I loved college."

"Do you teach here in the city?"

"Yes. I'm up at a private school for girls. It's kind of, what's the word?"

"Pretentious?" Fitz offered. He had attended a private school for boys in Michigan. He knew the type.

"Yes. Definitely pretentious. I often find myself apologizing for working at a place where the students are so privileged, but if I can be honest," she trailed off.

"You can," Fitz said.

She looked up. "I love it. My students, most of them, love learning the way I do. They have big dreams and they work hard. Their parents I could take or leave. But I love those girls."

"No apologies necessary. Every school needs teachers. And if you need to console yourself or others with the work you do over the summers, then so be it."

She smiled. "You've figured me out, I guess."

"I'm trying to," he said, smiling back.

Henry strolled over. "Anything else, you two?"

"May I have a water, please?" Olivia asked.

"Same for me," Fitz said.

"Slow down, my beautiful people. Don't go overboard," Henry said, handing over their drinks.

"Did Fitz tell you why he's in town?" Henry asked.

"Henry, please, you don't have to do this."

"No, let's hear it!" Olivia said.

"I don't want to upset either one of you. Finish those waters, I'll be closing up in twenty." He made his way down the bar, cleaning as he went.

Olivia turned. "Well now I'm interested."

He raised his eyebrows. "You weren't before?"

She blushed, and that made him happy.

"What brings you to New York in August?"

"I grew up in Michigan but came here for NYU and to make it big. While I was here, I had some things happen in my family and some great people came to my aide. I started a foundation to support their work, and I'm presenting them with a grant tomorrow."

"That's impressive," Olivia began.

"Thanks. It's the least I could do."

"But it was also really vague. You don't have to share anything too personal. We're strangers, I get it. But it sounds quite interesting. I would love to know more."

"We're not strangers," Fitz said, putting his hand through his curly hair that he had grown longer over the summer.

Olivia considered this. She had not expected to meet anyone, let alone Fitz Grant, at Henry's place on a random Friday night in August. He was down to earth, a great listener and, it had to be said, handsome. A quick glance at her watch showed her they had been talking for almost an hour. She wondered if these next 20 minutes would be the last she'd ever spend with him. She found herself hoping that wasn't the case, and her mind starting buzzing.

"I'm sorry," she said, trying to regain some balance. "I shouldn't have pried. But you shouldn't be so modest."

"It's only partly modesty. You don't have to apologize, but I'm also not really in a place to just share everything about myself with someone I just met."

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he regretted them.

"Right, yes, of course." She started going through her small purse to find cash for Henry.

"Wait, please," he said quietly, putting his hand over her arm.

She stopped to look at him.

"That came out wrong. I only meant that I don't typically talk about myself, like really talk about my life, with anyone. Not costars, not Ellen DeGeneres, not random people who stop me on the street. So it feels, I don't know, odd, to have you ask me to brag or share my sad story because I think you genuinely care, but my general response to anyone outside of my family showing genuine feeling toward me is to," he trailed off, making a waving gesture with his hand.

"Run?" she asked.

"Run, walk, surf in the opposite direction."

"Surf?" Olivia inquired.

Fitz breathed a sigh of relief, hoping her continuing of the conversation meant he hadn't scared her off with his knee-jerk response to talking about his childhood.

"I love the ocean. I have a house in Hawaii and being near the water is my happy place."

"Never been to Hawaii," Olivia said. "But that's one of the reasons I like New York. Big city, with some bodies of water nearby."

"The East River?" Fitz said with a laugh.

"The harbor, and the Atlantic!" Olivia countered.

"I know what you meant. I suppose if you haven't seen the color of the Pacific from the south shore of Kauai, you don't really know what you're missing."

"Thanks a lot, Mr. Movie Star."

He could tell she was messing with him. He could hug her was so grateful that she didn't run out and gave him a chance to explain.

She could tell she had touched a nerve and that he was relieved to have moved past it. It wasn't unlike her to pry into the lives of people who intrigued her. And Fitz definitely intrigued her. He seemed to have a lot to say, and yet in any interview she had ever watched, he had appeared shy and quiet. This night had felt like she had run into a man at the bar with whom she felt a connection. It just so happened that the man was famous.

"Look, Fitz, I'm sorry too. We just met, I shouldn't be asking you to tell me your life story. I tend to get carried away. I like to hear people's stories."

"Me too. And I like telling them. It's part of why I do what I do. I suppose I'm pretty terrible at telling my own though."

"Go figure," they both said simultaneously, and laughed.

They realized then, at the same moment, that this had been easy. That their conversation had been comfortably-paced, full of laughter and mostly stress free. As they stopped laughing, Olivia found Fitz'z blue eyes trained on her own brown ones.

"I'm so glad to have met you. This has been an unexpected night cap. Unexpected in a good way."

Olivia nodded. "I agree. It was a pleasure meeting you."

She put ten dollars on the bar, and Fitz immediately picked it up and handed it to her.

"Please, my treat."

She rolled her eyes. "One drink, a water and some time in the stool. I can afford it, even on my teaching salary."

"I'm sure you can. I'd just like to treat you, if you don't mind."

She hesitated, then put her purse over her shoulder. "Sure. Thanks, Fitz."

He found himself unsure of what to do next. Ask for her number? Follow her out? Let her go?

"Henry!" Olivia called. "I have to get going. I have a flight back to Detroit tomorrow."

Henry came around the bar and wrapped Olivia in a hug. Fitz was jealous.

"Thanks for stopping in to see me. We'll be here when you get back," Henry said.

"I'm counting on it," she said, smiling and turning to Fitz. "Well, good night."

He stood up. "Good night," he said, following his instincts and stepping toward her while opening his arms.

She sighed, happy he had taken the hint. She allowed herself to be wrapped in his embrace and couldn't help but notice how strong his body felt. His big hands rested on her back. He dipped his head a bit so that she could feel his breath on her neck. They were breathing in sync. The stepped away from each other. Time stood still.

"What time is it?" she asked, looking around for a clock that wasn't there.

Fitz glanced at his cell phone. "It's after 1:00."

She nodded. "I should get going."

He groaned inwardly. This was the longest goodbye ever, and he knew he had to do something.

"May I have your phone number? Talking to you has been, well," he stuttered. "May I have your phone number?"

She smiled. "You may. Especially because you asked so nicely."

She took his phone and entered a new contact. She included her e-mail address for good measure, hoping that when he checked his phone later he would know that it meant she was hoping to hear from him again.

"Thanks for a wonderful night, Olivia. I'm glad we both have the same bartender boyfriend."

Henry roared with laughter, as did Olivia.

"And safe travels," Fitz said, going in for one more quick hug.

"Thanks. Henry, Fitz, hope to see you soon."

With a quick wave she exited the bar and started the two block walk to her apartment. She loved the West Village, even if it was far from her school. She had grown up here and it felt like her neighborhood. She was just letting herself into the lobby of her building when her phone buzzed in her pocket.

"Hello?" she said. It was a number she didn't recognize.

"Henry tells me I should have offered to walk you home."

"I mean, it would have been gentlemanly of you. I probably would have turned you down though."

"I figured. I was trying to play it cool."

"Totally understandable. So was I."

There was a pause then. Another comfortable pause. And then Fitz realized he hadn't greeted her properly.

"Hi," he said quietly.

"Hi," Olivia replied, letting herself into the apartment where she would spend the next 40 minutes on the phone with Fitz, picking right up where they had left off.


	2. Chapter 2

Olivia awoke the next morning for her 10:30am flight from Laguardia Airport in New York to Detroit. She had one more week to spend there working with an organization that builds houses for those in need around the country. She had been working with a group of high school students from Manhattan on the house for three weeks. A stretch of rainy weather had provided them with some unexpected time off, and Olivia had been happy to be in New York with nothing to do for a few days.

As she buckled herself into the backseat of the cab, because of course she always buckled her seat belt, she yawned. She hadn't gone to bed until 3:15am, thanks to her extended conversation with Fitz Grant and the fact that she didn't begin packing until 2:30. She could not be certain she had enough clothes to get her through the week. She had felt like she was buzzing above herself as she packed. Butterflies. Mild nausea. She knew herself well. She had a crush on Fitz.

The man called her within five minutes of their lovely goodbye at the bar. He then proceeded to ask her all about her family (two parents, only child) which then led into an interesting discussion about small and big families, and how your birth order can affect your personality. Fitz was the youngest in his family, and he had three older sisters. Olivia didn't have siblings. It turns out they had a lot of stories to tell and a lot to learn from each other.

It was that quintessential moment, where you talk to someone for what feels like forever and no time at all and are still left wanting more. Olivia hadn't felt it before, not really. Her high school boyfriend had left her feeling queasy, because it was the first and only time she had been in love. But they had gone their separate ways amicably, and she hadn't felt that way since.

Olivia held her phone in her hand as she crossed the bridge that would take her to the airport. She wanted to know everything about Fitz. She knew a quick internet search would give something to hold her until they next spoke. But she also knew how he felt about celebrity gossip, and that when it was about him it was often untrue. Or skewed. She couldn't quite tell.

She smiled to herself when she realized that anything she found on the internet wouldn't be enough. She wanted to hear it from him. And that sentiment lasted all the way to the airport, through security and to the gate. But it could not hold her over through a two hour delay.

She hated herself as soon as she began the search, but she couldn't stop herself. He didn't have Facebook or Twitter, which was a delightful non-surprise. She checked the site that listed all of his previous film and theater roles, smiling at the thought of him in one of her favorite movies of the last year. The movie was quirky, thought-provoking and romantic. It was also groundbreaking and out of the ordinary. Knowing what little she knew about Fitz, coupled with thinking about the movies he no doubt chose (he was that good, he probably did choose), made her smile. Again.

She stared at the screen of her phone, debating about reading the section of his biography about his personal life. She knew there was something he hadn't shared. He had made that pretty clear at the bar. And so she closed her phone, shook her head as if shaking away the bad idea, and boarded her flight to Detroit.

Fitz stood on the makeshift stage outside of the treatment facility in upstate New York. Looking around, he saw faces he recognized from over a decade ago, older now but still with a recognizable kindness and understanding. He had come here with his brother, his twin, his Oliver, when it seemed like there was still hope.

Of course Oliver had been his best friend. They had gone through most of life's experiences together. They had moved to New York after high school, Fitz at NYU for fine arts and Oli at Columbia for engineering. They shared an apartment in Chelsea. They shared friends, excursions to explore the city and their wildest dreams.

Somewhere along the way, Oli lost his usual ability to handle stress. Before college, before New York, life had been easy for him. He was charming, he was smart and he was kind. But those qualities didn't get him as far as they used to. Because Fitz was so busy trying to become an actor, he didn't notice the change in Oli's behavior until words like "addict" and "rehab" were being floated by his sisters and his parents. Fitz had felt at the time, and still felt (even though he publically stated otherwise), that if he had been there, if he had noticed, he could have helped Oli stay on track.

He understands the logic of addiction. That a person isn't choosing drugs over you. That you can't take it personally. But Oliver was literally the other half of his soul. Born from the same egg. Nobody, not even the best psychologists or therapists or whomever he saw in the aftermath, could convince him that he wasn't at least partially to blame for what happened. An overdose might come as a shock, but it is not without its warning signs.

Staring out into the audience, Fitz saw his parents and two of his sisters. His oldest sister, Madeline, was a doctor in Michigan and was on call this weekend. Serena and Juliette were seated next to his parents – Cooper and Catherine – and the sight of them made him so happy. And also incredibly sad. Because Oliver wasn't there, and hadn't been there for 13 years. Thinking about his siblings, he thought back to part of his conversation with Olivia the night before.

"So, your parents didn't want to have all of their kids have names that began with C?"

"They did not. They were careful not to go there."

"But they do have a thing for three-syllable names, huh?"

Fitz thought for a moment. This had never occurred to him. He told her as much.

"What can I say? I notice things."

She did notice things. She knew at the bar he wasn't telling her everything. And he had wanted to share the missing piece with her. He had had a few opportunities. But he just wasn't there yet. Even though it felt like he had known her forever, the truth was it had been less than 24 hours since they met.

His name was called and he stepped to the microphone.

"Thanks so much to Jeremy and Gretchen Langston for having me and for starting Langston's on the River more than 20 years ago. This center gives comfort, hope and safety to people battling addiction, and it supports the families, friends and caregivers who are deeply connected to the battle. I came here over ten years ago with my brother, and will be forever grateful for the sense of peace we both found here. The work done here is crucial in decreasing the stigma of addiction for both those suffering and those of us who love the sufferers. Thank you to everyone, from the gentleman who greeted us at the door this morning, to the office manager who knows everyone by name, to Jeremy and Gretchen themselves for providing an oasis for so many for so long. I'm thrilled to support this mission, and thank you for welcoming my family back with open arms."

After touring the newly built exercise wing of the center, Fitz had dinner with his family at a diner along the Hudson River. Over BLTs and cherry pie, they enjoyed each other's company, as it had been a couple of months since they had all been in the same place at the same time. His sisters lived together in Los Angeles, so Fitz saw them when he was there for work, and he tried to see his parents and Madeline as much as possible. They all spent Christmas in Hawaii every year, and they tried to come together at Langston's on special occasions such as today. It was too difficult for his mom, in particular, to travel to New York City. Fitz understood it. It was bearable but not ideal for him, either.

"Fitz, the exercise wing is fantastic," his dad said as he cleared any remnants of pie from his plate.

"Thanks, Pop," Fitz said, finishing his last bite as well. "I'm sure it will be helpful for people. Working out can be cathartic. Cleansing."

"Why didn't you let them use Oliver's name?" Juliette asked.

"It's just not something I'm comfortable with. I gave the speech. It doesn't need to be out there in the world."

"I disagree," Juliette said, but quietly.

"Why?" Fitz prodded.

"This is great work they're doing here, little brother. Oliver would be proud as hell. We're all proud. And you should be too. There's no shame in a little notoriety."

Fitz considered this. It was always Juliette that challenged him the most. She was the youngest sister, but older than him by 14 months. It was the second time in as many days that someone was borderline criticizing him for being too humble.

"I hear you. But I've said enough. And it's not up to you."

"Yeah yeah, I know. You're his twin. You know best. We all miss him, Fitz."

"Of course you do. That's never been in question."

"I think what she means," Serena tried to cut in.

"She means that I always act as if I would know what Oliver wanted. Facts are facts, guys. He was my best friend. Even at the end, when it felt like I didn't know him at all, he was Oli. So I won't apologize for making the decision based on 20 years of being his brother."

"Right. Yes." Serena smiled sadly.

"I love you guys. We all loved Oli. Let's just remember that, okay?"

Fitz's mom raised her chocolate milkshake. "To Oli, Fitz and the three Grant girls. I love you."

"Here here!"

Fitz sat in his apartment much later, after dropping his family at their hotel, holding his cell phone. It had been an emotionally draining day. After traveling back from upstate, he had taken his family for dessert at a chocolate bar in his neighborhood. Everyone felt too sleepy for a movie or a show, so they made plans for brunch and retired to their beds.

Except as soon as Fitz had returned to his loft, he made some tea (he always caught slack for this beverage choice, but years of being cold on movie sets and needing something other than coffee made him a tea person). He was exhausted, but in that weird place where going to bed was the last thing on his mind. So Fitz found himself sitting on the couch with his cell phone, wanting to call Olivia. It was 9:30, still less than 24 hours since he had met her, but he wanted to call her. Before he lost his nerve, he pulled up his recent call list and hit send. Voicemail.

"This is Olivia Pope. Please leave a message."

"Olivia, hi, it's Fitz. I hope you had a safe, easy flight to Detroit and a good day. I've been gone most of the day but am home now. Just thinking about, well, you. Would love to chat, I'm sure you're busy, hope to hear from you soon."

He rolled his eyes as he hung up. He hadn't called a girl, a woman, in a few years. His last real relationship had been so long ago he could only remember the most incredible parts, not the day to day of it. He had gone on a few dates with one of his sister's friends, and it had been fine, but they had only texted. He realized now that conversation was important. He showered, grabbed the book he was reading and read until he fell asleep on the couch.

Olivia listened to his message as she removed her work boots in her hotel room. It was 11:30. She had gone to dinner with the other trip leaders and had a few glasses of wine. The liquid courage was strong, so she tapped Fitz's name on her phone and sat down at the desk in her room.

"Hi," he said, answering after six rings.

"Hi. You should like you were sleeping. I'm sorry, it's late. I got your message and I just called." She put her head down on her arm on the desk.

"It's okay. You did me a favor. I'm on the couch and should make my way to bed anyway."

"Asleep on the couch. A rocking Saturday night for you, huh?"

"Oh yeah. You know me."

"Only a little bit."

There was silence then.

"How was your day?" Fitz asked.

"Pretty good. We're onto the last pieces, windows, doors, cosmetic stuff. I went to dinner with the other leaders at a cool new brewpub here, which thankfully served wine."

"Michigan grapes?"

"Yes! They were very proud."

"Detroit's on its way back."

"You're from here, right?"

"I grew up in northern Michigan, but went to a private school down there for high school. We were the youngest, and we were borderline journeymen, so my parents agreed to boarding school."

"It has probably changed a lot since then. It has since the last time I was here a few years ago. Wait, journeymen?"

"Yeah, you know, we had our sights set on something else, something different than what we were used to."

"Who's 'we?'" Olivia asked. She was kind of tipsy and truthfully just inquiring. She didn't know she had just stumbled upon the one topic Fitz had balked at the night before.

"Shit, I walked right into that one."

"I'm confused. I might be a little drunk, but still confused."

"You're drunk? Are you drunk dialing me?" he asked playfully.

"I'm calling you back! Common courtesy."

"I see. Good to know."

"I also wanted to talk to you. It seems like it has been weeks and not just one day."

Fitz sighed. "I agree. I'm glad you called back."

"So who's 'we?'"

"My brother and I," Fitz said. "We were twins."

Olivia lifted her head and brushed her hair out of her eyes. If one could see inside of her head, the wheels would have been turning. She tried to put everything together. Tried to connect the dots.

"You didn't mention a brother last night."

"Right. He passed away. I never quite know how to share that with people who don't already know."

"Fitz, I'm so sorry. I can't relate, but I'm so sorry."

This was the best thing anyone could say to him about Oliver. He appreciated people trying to understand, but the truth was they really couldn't.

"Thanks. I'm sorry I didn't mention it. It's not something I talk about."

"I totally understand. I promise I wasn't phishing for information just now. And when I looked you up earlier, I didn't see anything about this. I really didn't know."

"I believe you. Wait, you looked me up?"

"Shit. Yes. My flight was delayed, I was thinking about you, and you're kind of mysterious."

"I shared more with you than I do with most people. I'm not trying to be mysterious. I'm just, I don't know, private. Not a sharer."

"I get it. I do. I was not planning on admitting that I looked you up. But, here we are."

"Here we are."

"How was your day?" she asked. She genuinely wanted to know.

He told her about why he was in New York. She had questions, but mostly listened.

"That's fantastic, Fitz. Really. I'm sure it is difficult, and I'm also sure they're grateful for your support."

"They're the best."

"I bet they say the same about you."

"You are not going to get me to brag about myself. Remind me to never leave you alone with my sister."

"Why?"

"She would love someone else on her side."

"Her side?"

"I can just see you guys getting along. That's all."

"And that's a bad thing?"

Fitz laughed. "For me? Yeah."

"I'm good with families. It's all about listening and framing things the right way."

"Well, when you're in a parent-Olivia conference with my family, I'm sure you'll do great."

"Set it up!" she said, giggling.

Fitz was smiling like an idiot on his end of the line. She was even more adorable than she had been, because she wasn't thinking about what she said or treading lightly. They were flirting and talking about her meeting his family, and it wasn't awkward. It just made him feel good.

"I should probably get ready. We're working tomorrow to try and make up some of the lost time."

"Of course. Well, thanks for calling back. I'll sleep better for sure."

"I'm glad I woke you up."

"Me too."

"Talk to you soon, then?" Olivia asked.

"Definitely."

"Good. Okay, goodnight Fitz."

"'Night, Olivia."

Neither of them hung up. She looked up at the ceiling of the hotel room, waiting.

"Are you still there?" he asked quietly.

"Yes," she replied.

"Hang up or I'm going to keep you on the phone all night."

"Who says that's not what I want?"

Olivia could have slapped herself after saying this. Any of the guys she had dated in the past would have reported that she was too close-off, not honest about what she wanted, a good communicator only on her terms. This felt different. But good.

"You have another tiring day tomorrow. And I have brunch with my family. If I look tired they'll be all over me."

"Are you usually rested?"

"I tend to be pretty relaxed. I meditate a bit, and I exercise."

"So you take good care of yourself."

"I try, yeah."

"Have you always been that way?"

This led to another 15 minutes of discussion. Olivia shared that she did yoga three mornings a week and took walks around her neighborhood every evening. They both realized they enjoyed quiet forms of exercise. Nothing in a group. Fitz realized he had started trying to take care and center himself after Oliver died. It was part coping, and part survival.

"Maybe we could do yoga together sometime," Fitz proposed, yawning.

"That sort of goes against what we just talked about. Solitude and what not."

"Yeah, you're right. We wouldn't want to expand our horizons or anything."

Olivia laughed and yawned at the same time. "Exactly. Comfort zone."

"We're both tired. But before we hang up for real, can we go back to the idea of seeing each other again?" Fitz asked.

"Back to it?"

"Not for yoga. But for something else."

"Fitz Grant. We only just met."

He guffawed. "Lord. Am I just bad at this, or are you making it difficult?"

Olivia sat up straighter. She had been called difficult before. She knew Fitz wasn't doing that exactly, but she still hated that word.

"Olivia? You there?"

"I'm here. Sorry, I just have an aversion to that word."

"Difficult?"

"Yes. People use it against me. I can be, um, kind of rigid."

"With what? Expectations?"

"Sort of. Routines. A level of respect. I don't always do a good job of communicating my feelings but then expect people to understand me. That's what my therapist tells me, anyway."

"Tell your therapist about this. You just did a very good job."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome. And I wasn't calling you difficult. I was trying to figure out how to go about seeing you again without being obvious. I'm failing miserably."

"Not true. I'd love to." Olivia stood and walked to the hotel room door to make sure the bolt was secure.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"That's excellent news. We're good on the phone. I bet we'd be great over dinner at that Italian place near the bar."

"Whoa," Olivia said teasingly.

"What?" Fitz was confused.

"You're much better at this than you think."

"Maybe. I think we should consider the very real possibility that you're bringing it out of me."

"Either way, that sounds like a good idea. Do you want to call me next Friday? That's when I get back."

"I do. But I also want to call you tomorrow."

"Okay."

"Okay."

"Talk to you soon, then."

"Talk to you soon. Goodnight, Olivia."

"Night."

Olivia hung up and sat down in front of the hotel room door. She felt lightheaded, but it wasn't from the wine. It was the same feeling she had experienced last night and this morning. Fitz was affecting her in a way that few people had before.

Fitz made his way to his bedroom. He didn't have to meditate to fall asleep tonight. He was calm, happy and looking forward to what came next.


	3. Chapter 3

Fitz and Olivia spoke Sunday night. They spoke Tuesday night. They spoke Thursday night, particularly to make plans for the following day. She insisted on meeting him at the restaurant, a hidden gem of a place in between their apartments. It felt awkward for him to not pick her up. He didn't know a lot about dating in the real world. But he did show up to the restaurant 20 minutes early, just to make sure he could choose the table and also be there before Olivia.

He wore dark, tailored jeans and a very light purple button-up shirt. He had to roll up the sleeves because it was the middle of August and muggy in New York. He wore brown loafers without socks and a brown belt. At the florist on the way to the restaurant, he selected purple sterling roses, only realizing that they matched his shirt as he set them on his selected table.

He anxiously rubbed his hands together and thought about Olivia. Always this week, he was thinking of Olivia. He had basically had this week off of work. He was set to begin filming a movie here in three weeks, and he would begin rehearsals in earnest come Monday. He had read a lot of books, taken a lot of walks and read a couple of scripts. But, still, Olivia remained near the front of his mind.

It was easy. It seemed like such a simplistic way to describe it, but that's what it was. Talking to her, listening to her, thinking about her. It was easy. He had thought often about how she had said she had been described as difficult, and this was unfathomable to him. She knew what she liked. She didn't back down in conversations. But he liked that about her. He certainly didn't see it as a character flaw.

As Olivia stepped out of the cab, which had been a last minute decision after she decided on the 3-inch wedge sandals, she took a deep breath. She was wearing a white sleeveless cotton shirt tucked into a navy and white cotton maxi skirt. Most of her work outfits were suits. Structured. She tended to be more relaxed – or "flowy" as her dad described it – during the summer. The heels had been a last minute change. Fitz was really tall. She was petite. Plus, the heels would look better if she crossed her legs and exposed them. She rolled her eyes thinking that she was considering their heights, as if presuming they might kiss. Of course they wouldn't.

She almost believed that.

The truth of the matter was that she had never been more attracted to anyone in her life. And she had only seen him one time! In person, that is. She had seen many of his films and never had a celebrity crush on him. But knowing him, or getting to know him, and remembering what it felt like with his arms around her as they had hugged goodbye a week ago, it was almost too much. Almost. She was tremendously nervous but also very excited to see him again. Not nervous because of a lack of confidence. Nervous because it was the first date in forever that she hoped went well. And it was with Fitz Grant. She had realized today while getting ready that it was the first time that his career, his status, his presence, had affected her.

She stepped into the restaurant and was greeted by a friendly-looking host. Before she could even introduce herself, he greeted her by name and led her to the back of the restaurant.

Fitz stood as soon as he saw her. She was radiant. He realized in that moment he hadn't expected anything less. Any worry he had about the memory of her not matching who he had grown to like so much over the phone faded away as she reached the table. He couldn't play it cool. He embraced her as soon as she was within arm's reach.

"Hi there," she said, her voice muffled in his chest. His solid, muscular chest complete with a rapidly beating heart.

"Hi yourself. It's so good to see you. Actually see you," he said, stepping back.

"You look handsome. And nice move having the host waiting for me."

"It's all for you," he said, grabbing the bouquet off of the table. "As are these. You look gorgeous, Olivia."

She blushed. "Thank you. It's good to actually see you too."

They sat then. She ordered a bottle of red wine for them to share. They share appetizers and a salad before ordering their main courses, and their conversation flowed as it had for the past week. His next project (a period piece set during the California gold rush), her plans for the last weeks of summer (reading, lesson planning, spending a weekend in the Hamptons with her parents), his house in Hawaii (big, open, on the water), wacky stories about her students (even high school kids say the funniest things). When the waiter placed dessert menus in front of them, Olivia noticed for the first time that the sun had set.

"What do you think about walking for a bit? Maybe getting some ice cream?" Fitz asked.

"Sounds perfect," she replied, wiping her lips with her napkin. She noticed his eyes rested on her lips before he spoke again.

"Thanks so much, Andrew, but we'll just take the check."

"You know the waiter, too? Of course you do."

"I don't actually. But I can read his nametag."

"Is there anything you can't do?" she challenged playfully.

"I could name a few things. But I want you to go out with me again. So let's walk."

She carried the flowers out of the restaurant.

"I have an idea," she said, grabbing his hand with her free hand. "Come on."

He loved the feeling of her small hand in his. Their fingers laced together, comfortably and warmly, was the new highlight of the evening. She led them to the bar where they had met a week ago tonight.

"Henry doesn't have ice cream. Believe me, I've asked."

"Maybe so, but I bet he can keep these flowers safe for us while we walk."

Fitz nodded and followed her in. Henry was there and visibly delighted to see them together. He gladly took the flowers and put them into a pitcher of water, safely behind the bar. Olivia blew him a kiss and Fitz shook his hand, and they were out into the warm summer night again.

Fitz grabbed her hand as soon as they were on the sidewalk.

"Is this okay?" he asked as they strolled.

"Definitely," she said, letting go and linking her arm through his. It brought them closer together. New highlight, for both of them.

They each got an ice cream cone and found a bench outside of a small park to enjoy and rest. She was thankful then for her shoes. She knew how to walk in heels, and now that they were sitting next to each other, she was happy to felt confident from head to toe. They were sitting right next to each other, legs touching, elbows bumping if they each raised their ice cream at the same time. Olivia was in a fog and didn't notice the two women approaching them until they were right in front of them.

"Excuse me, so sorry to interrupt, but are you Fitz Grant?" one of the women asked. She was probably in her mid-twenties.

"That I am," Fitz said, sitting up a little straighter.

"We're huge fans," both women said at once. Olivia couldn't help but laugh a little.

"Thank you. That's very kind of you. Are you guys from New York?"

Fitz engaged them in a solid five minutes of conversation. Olivia got the sense that this was his typical response to fans. That his reputation, while based in truth, didn't leave room for his willingness to be generous with his time and kindness to random strangers. He took a photograph with them, asked that they not share it on social media and sent the happy strangers on their way.

"That was something. You were lovely with them," Olivia complimented him.

"They were polite and kind. I'm happy to return the favor."

"Does that happen to you a lot?"

"Not really. Especially not here. New Yorkers don't care that much. I'm sorry I didn't introduce you."

"Please, don't apologize."

He turned to her then. "I guess I could have just said you were my date."

"Sure," she said, putting her hand on his arm. "But I promise I'm not upset. It's our first date. Let's not overthink it."

He glanced down at her hand on his arm. Before he could lose his nerve, he reached for it and brought it to his lips, kissing the top of her hand gently. Every hair on her body stood up. She felt frozen, unable to move, anticipating what might happen next. He held her hand near his chin.

"Hi," he said, smiling.

She couldn't help but break out into the cheesiest grin then.

"Hi."

"How's it going?"

She laughed. "It's going well, don't you agree?"

"Yes. Just checking."

She moved her hand to his shoulder, then decided to forego any common sense and move it to the back of neck, putting her fingers though his soft curls.

He easily relaxed into her, while at the same time pulling her halfway into his lap on the bench. It turns out she didn't heels to stage the perfect kiss with him, because it was going to happen while they were seated. Face to face.

He made sure she was secure in his lap and then put a hand on either side of her face.

"Olivia," he started.

She shook her head ever so slightly, not able to find the words to tell him it was okay, to be confident, that this was where she wanted to be.

He took the hint and kissed her lips ever-so-lightly. He could feel her lips curve into a small smile, and she leaned closer into him. This relaxed him a little, even if his heartbeat only sped up. He deepened the kiss, and she opened her mouth and invited him in. She tasted like strawberry ice cream, because of course she did.

When Olivia heard Fitz moan quietly, she knew he was feeling everything she was feeling. Their mouths moved in sync for what felt both like a blink of an eye and an entire season. He pulled away and placed a quick, light kiss on her lips, but didn't move away. Their foreheads touched.

"I would say something poetic, but I can barely breathe," she whispered.

"Same," she said, rubbing he hand on the stubble on his cheeks.

They sat together like that, two intelligent, usually wordy people, at a loss for words. After a few minutes she returned to the spot right next to him, linked her arm with his and rested her head on his shoulder. They were both content to just be.

"Do you have a favorite bagel place?" he asked.

She thought about it. "A couple. The place over near Henry's isn't bad. There are a lot of great ones just south of here."

He nodded. "Oli and I used to go to that one right over there," he said, indicating a deli that was on the corner two blocks way.

"Oli is your brother?" she asked.

"Yeah. Oliver. Usually Oli to me, though."

"Oli and Fitz," she said, squeezing his arm a little.

"We would eat there at least five times a week. Sometimes more."

"Do you still go?" she asked, even though she had an idea about the answer.

"Rarely. It was too hard at first. Now I think I could do it, but I just found other places. It's like that was ours, and now I have things that are mine."

"I can respect that. But have you found a place for you that is as good?"

"Truthfully, not really. Their chive spread is the best I've ever had."

"I think we should have it," she said, sitting up.

"Right now? It's 10:30."

"Not now, just sometime. In the near future."

"Olivia Pope, is this your way of asking me out?"

"Please. This is my way of getting to the best spread in the city."

Before he could respond, she moved to kiss him again. It surprised him, but also made him incredibly happy. She wrapped her arms around his neck and he pulled her to him.

"You're so tiny," he said in between kisses.

"You're not," she said, and they both laughed.

"I hate to say this, but we should probably get going."

"You're right. We should."

"Come over?" he asked.

She smiled. Her arms were still around his neck. She wanted to go to his apartment. She didn't want this night to end. But she was still her old self, and despite the feeling that what was happening was new and different and important, her old self took over.

"I would love to. But I think I should head home."

He nodded. "I understand. But I'm taking you."

She tried to protest and he lifted a hand. "This is a date. I walk you home."

They slowly made their way to her apartment building.

"This is me," she said. "Fourth floor. I don't think you should come in. The doorman reads gossip magazines."

"Thanks for the heads up."

"Fitz, this was lovely. A truly wonderful evening. Thank you."

He shook his head. "Thank you. I had a great time. Can I see you again?"

"Yes. Please," she said, standing on her toes to give him a kiss on the cheek. "Will you text me when you get home?"

"Sure."

"Okay. Well, goodnight," she said, opening the door to her building.

"Goodnight," he said with a wave.

He walked back to his place. It was a 20 minute walk. She had been a mere 20 minutes from him for years. How lucky was he that she had stopped by Henry's last Friday?

Thinking that, he remembered the flowers. He took a detour to the bar and gave Henry the update on their evening. When he stepped out onto the sidewalk, he fought the urge to go back to Olivia's. He texted her when he got home instead.

**Fitz: Home safely. Stopped by the bar and grabbed the flowers. Would love to let you enjoy them. Maybe I could drop by tomorrow?**

**Olivia: The flowers! My mind was elsewhere, I'm glad you remembered. I'll be here tomorrow. Maybe bring the flowers with a side of bagels?**

**Fitz: Well played. 9:00?**

**Olivia: Yes.**

**Fitz: Not soon enough.**

**Olivia: Stop flirting with me.**

**Fitz: Never. **

**Olivia: Okay. :)**

**Fitz: See you in the morning. Night.**

**Olivia: Night, Fitz. **


	4. Chapter 4

As Fitz drove to set on Thursday morning, he smiled thinking about his date with Olivia. Two dates, really, if you count Saturday. He had gone to get bagels from his old place, had survived it, and then gone to Olivia's house with breakfast and flowers in tow. They had watched the previous weekend's Sunday morning news program over bagels and good conversation. Olivia had errands to run, and had invited Fitz to join her, but he had declined. He was having some work done around his house, trying to squeeze it in before he started the new movie. He hadn't realized at the time that it would be his last opportunity to see her in almost a week. He missed her. A lot. They had kissed goodbye, and had spoken every day, but already it wasn't enough.

He called her when he pulled into the parking lot at the filming location in Queens.

"Hey there," she said. She was breathing heavily.

"Hi. What're you up to?"

"Walking up the stairs from yoga and a swim. Where are you?"

"Just pulled into the lot. I was thinking about you."

"Stop, I'm blushing."

"Deal with it," he said, laughing.

"What does your day look like?" she asked, unlocking her door.

"More rehearsals. We start shooting next week. You?"

"I'm not sure yet. Just enjoying these last few days before the school year starts."

"Speaking of enjoying the days, what about tomorrow? Are you free?" he asked.

"Yes. What'd you have in mind?"

"Well, I actually just finished having the pool at my place resurfaced, and I thought we could spend some time there. Let me check the weather, hang on one minute."

He took his phone from his ear and did a quick check of his weather app.

"Sorry about that. It looks like tomorrow should be warm and sunny. What do you think?"

"It sounds like a good idea to me. What time should I come over?"

"Now?" Fitz said.

She giggled. "Lunch time?"

"Sure."

"Okay. See you tomorrow, then."

"Looking forward to it."

"Me too. Bye Fitz."

"Bye."

The next day, Olivia found herself standing in her robe in the middle of her tiny Manhattan bedroom. There were four bathing suits on her bed, one bikini and three that were one piece. She really wanted to wear the bikini. She wanted Fitz to see her in it. That's how she felt, deep down. But she was incredibly practical, perhaps too practical, and she was leaning toward the white one-piece with a side cutout. It was stylish, but still somewhat modest. She groaned to herself, grabbed the white one-piece and finished getting ready. Twenty minutes later, she found herself in the lobby of Fitz's building.

Not surprisingly, the lobby was modern and quiet. The doorman was skeptical at first. Olivia got the feeling that Fitz didn't often receive guests. She made nice, waited for Fitz to give the okay and then took the elevator to the 18th floor. The penthouse, as it turns out. Something Fitz had failed to mention.

When the elevator door opened, Olivia found herself in a foyer of some kind. There was only one door, surrounded on each side by two small chairs. A stunning photograph of a surfer, presumably Hawaii because she knew Fitz had a home there, was to her right. She was admiring it when the door in front of her opened.

Fitz was the most casual she had ever seen him in loose fitting jeans, a tighter grey t-shirt that showed off his muscular chest, and no shoes. He flashed a genuine, full-teeth smile when she turned her head to greet him.

"Hi, come in," he said, swinging the door wide open and motioning for her to enter his apartment.

"Thanks," she said, standing up on her tip toes to give him a short kiss on his cheek. "How are you?" she said as she walked past him.

"Better now. I'm sorry for my appearance, the morning got away from me. You can set your stuff on the table, I can give you a quick tour."

She set her pool bag down and turned to face him, finding he was much closer to her than she was expecting. Before she could second-guess it, one of his big hands was on her cheek and he was kissing her.

This kiss was certainly more passionate than her quick greeting at the door. It reminded her of their kiss on the bench during their date. It felt loaded. Like there was a week of longing behind it and they had both just been waiting for this moment. The strength of Fitz's body inadvertently caused Olivia to take a few steps backward, and she felt the kitchen table press into the back of her thighs. Instinctually (she truthfully did not even think about it, and later as she did think about it she would smile at the thought of allowing her self a moment or two to not think) she sat on the edge of the table and put her legs around Fitz's waist. He moaned and exhaled at the same time, bringing his other hand to her face and continuing to kiss her in a way she had only been kissed once, and many years ago. She held onto his forearms, his muscular and sexy forearms she had noticed the first night at Henry's. She wanted to wrap her arms around him. But her brain kicked in, and she left a little bit of distance between them so as not to go too far, too soon.

A minute later, maybe 20 minutes for all they knew, they stopped kissing and looked at each other. Fitz dropped his hands to his sides, grazing the outside of her thighs on the way. He ran one hand through his hair and she was struck by the look on his face. Was he unsure? Was he nervous? Was he sorry? His eyes were focused on an area just over her head, and it seemed intentional, like he couldn't look at her. Or wouldn't. She hopped off of the table and he started to turn away, but she put her hand on his forearm (because, of course) to stop him.

"Hi," she said, "it's good to see you." She hoped this would bring him back. Back to the moment, back to her.

He gave her another genuine smile and stepped toward her and kissed her slowly and softly on the cheek.

"Hi," he said, "thanks for coming over."

"Thanks for inviting me. Now how about the tour?" she said, linking her arm with his. She couldn't be sure, but she felt his muscles relax. He seemed less stiff. He gave her one more quick kiss.

"Sorry," he said.

"For what?" she asked.

"I can't stop kissing you. I was hoping to play it somewhat cool today and I'm failing miserably."

She rolled her eyes. "You can never give a girl who wants to be kissed too many kisses. Is that what's bothering you?"

"You want to be kissed?" he said, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall in the hallway. They hadn't even gotten to the first stop on the tour.

"I believe that's what I said. Answer my question," she said, playfully poking him in the shoulder. "What was bothering you back there?" she said, nodding toward the kitchen table.

"I'm out of practice. I had hoped to make you feel welcome here, not maul you within the first minute. But I saw you, and I had to kiss you. It's awkward. For me."

"I'm not going to tell you how to feel. I get it. But you should know, when you're analyzing this later, because I think we're the same in that way, that I agree."

"That it's awkward?"

"No. I agree that you had to kiss me."

She blushed, and so did he.

"That's good information to have. For later. When I'm replaying every part of today in my head."

"Will you also be writing in your diary?" she asked, smiling.

"Maybe I will," he said, closing the small gap between them and kissing her again. "Will you?" he asked, his lips less than an inch from hers.

"I don't have a journal. Used to. I was mocking you, but I actually think writing at the end of the day can be really useful. To decompress. I swim now instead."

"Right, swimming. That's the rouse I used to get you here. Maybe we should get to it."

"What about the tour?"

"Oh, right. Shall we?" he said, holding out his arm for her.

Fitz's apartment was the biggest she had seen in the city. This didn't surprise her. Even though it was large, it still felt modest. It still felt like Fitz. There were four bedrooms, each with its own bathroom. One of the rooms was being used as an office. It had built in bookcases on three walls and a small window facing south. She could see the Statue of Liberty if she squinted. Two other rooms were set up as guest bedrooms. She saw reading glasses on one of the nightstands. Fitz must have been watching her closely.

"Those are Serena's. This is where she usually sleeps when she visits."

Olivia nodded. "Serena, second oldest sister."

"Yeah. She's a teacher too, actually. She didn't stay here this last trip because my parents were here, but when it's just her, this is her room."

"Do you see your family often?"

"More often than you might think. My parents rarely travel here. It's still hard for my mom to be here without Oliver. But my sisters like to visit. We stay in, play games, watch movies, that kind of thing."

"So Serena's a teacher. Madeline is a doctor. What about Juliette?"

"She's an accountant. Which is so bizarre, and it even feels weird to say that."

"Why?" Olivia asked.

"She's such a free spirit. She's the female version of Oliver. She didn't go to boarding school like we did, but she wanted to. When she finally settled on a major in college, I would have bet a lot of money that it was a prank and that she was really studying medieval poetry or journalism or botany. But, she's an accountant."

Olivia considered this. She had more questions, but decided it wasn't the time to ask them.

"Let's see your room." She said this because she really did want to see where he lived, but of course it sounded like a proposition.

"How forward of you," he said, laughing and leading her out of the room. He squeezed her arm, acknowledging they were both kidding.

Fitz's room was exactly like she would have pictured if she had pictured it. The walls were painted a light grey. The bedspread was grey with a navy blue trim. There was another photograph of the ocean over his bed. On the wall opposite the bed was a large television framed with more bookcases. A sitting area with what looked to be extremely comfortable leather chairs and a small table was at the far end in front of a sliding glass door and a small balcony.

"This feels like you. Where did you get the photographs? This one and the one in your lobby."

"I took them, actually."

"Really? Wow. Fitz, they're fantastic."

He tried to shake his head, and she held up her hand.

"No, no, no. Just say, 'Thank you,' and give yourself a little credit."

"That's difficult for me."

"I gather," she said, crossing her arms.

"What?" he asked.

"I'm waiting."

"You really want me to say thank you?"

"I want you to accept a compliment, yes."

"Fine. Thank you. I love the ocean, like I've said before, and occasionally I get lucky. Right place, right time with a camera."

"This is Hawaii, then?"

"Yep. That's the view from my house, actually. I was standing on the rocks in the front yard."

"Wow."

"Anyway, this is my room. Let's go to the other side. I want to show you the pool."

The living room was cozy, the kitchen was decently-sized and well appointed, and it might have been more impressive if the pool didn't exist. Olivia wondered why she had ever assumed it was a pool shared by the building. This was more typical, but it wasn't Fitz. She didn't picture him hanging out at a public pool, but she had never seen a private, full-sized pool before. Maybe on television. But not in person.

There was a sliding door in the corner of the living room, and it led to a full-sized pool, a patio with six lounge chairs and tables, two tables for eating or playing games, a barbeque, an area for yoga and, judging by the music playing, a hidden sound system. The pool was done in an incredible mosaic tile pattern. She turned to Fitz.

"This is what you just had resurfaced?"

He nodded. "The tile is old. They aren't sure if it's original to the building, but it's at least 50 years old. Some of it had to be replaced for safety, but some of it just needed to be cleaned and polished. The water was just added last weekend. It took all summer, but they wanted to work during the warm months to protect the tile as much as possible."

"It's amazing. This is a gem. Is this why you live here?" she asked.

"It was definitely one of the deciding factors. I moved in eight years ago, and the pool was a mess. I had it cleaned up to functioning, but last winter I decided to have it fully restored. I spend a lot of time out here during the spring and summer."

"So it's heated?" she asked, bending down to test the water with her fingertips.

"Oh yeah."

"Well, I'm officially impressed. This is an amazing space, Fitz. And it seems pretty private too," she said, turning in place. There weren't any tall buildings right next door that could see over into the pool area. Across the street maybe, but that was Manhattan.

"It is. Another selling point. Though honestly I can't see myself ever selling this place. Even if I'm not here full time, I don't think I could do better for myself. It has everything I need and nothing I don't."

She had learned so much about him and had only been at his home for half an hour.

"Should we eat?" he asked.

"Let's."

He grilled chicken and they had salads and iced tea. When they were done and there was finally a lull in the conversation, they both leaned back in their chairs. Satisfied. Almost. Fitz reached over and grabbed the arms of her chair and scooter her closer to him.

"Tell me something," he said.

"Anything?"

"Anything. Tell me a story."

She was sitting cross-legged in her chair and sat forward and held the arms of his. They were almost embracing.

"I worked with an interesting group of kids this summer. One in particular seemed lonely, and that's pretty typical, away from the usual routines and friends and family."

She continued her story about the relationship she had built with the high school girl over the course of the summer, how she had come out of her shell once they had built some trust, how the student was hoping to return to the project next summer. The entire time she spoke, Fitz looked in her eyes. This was different than hours before when he couldn't look at her. It was disarming. In a good way.

"You're a good teacher," he said, leaning forward and kissing her softly on the lips.

"I do my best," she said, kissing him back.

"What do you want to do now?" he asked, as he started kissing her neck.

"I don't know," she said, running her hands up and down his back. His t-shirt was thin. He felt every movement. She felt every muscle. With one move forward, she would be in his lap and straddling him. It didn't matter that she wanted that more than anything, her practical side kicked in and she sat back.

"Let's swim," she said, brushing imaginary crumbs off of her lap and standing.

"Sounds good," he said, standing. "I need to change into my suit. If you need the bathroom, feel free."

"I'm good. I wore my suit," she said, pulling the neckline of her t-shirt over to display the strap.

Before she could put it back into place, Fitz was kissing her exposed collarbone. She sighed and leaned into him, putting her arms around his waist. He was much taller than her, and broader, and she fit nicely in his arms. With his mouth still very near her skin, he exhaled.

"Swimming. Yes. Good idea," he said to her laughter. He couldn't help but laugh, too.

She removed her shorts and t-shirt and sat on the edge of the pool. It was the perfect temperature. Warm enough but not overwhelmingly so. That's how she felt about Fitz, mostly. It just felt right. She was just scooting herself into the water when he returned to the patio.

"Verdict?" he said.

"Perfect."

"Good."

The sight of him without a shirt changed the temperature of the water. Olivia was sure of it. She was suddenly very warm as he slipped in and made his way over to where she was treading water in the deep end.

They kissed and talked and did headstands and swam some laps at a casual pace. He tickled her on her side where the bathing suit was cut out. She tried to find a ticklish spot on him but was unsuccessful. After over half an hour in the pool, they decided to dry off, each taking a lounge chair. She used a towel to take some of the excess water out of her hair, which was curly and bound to dry frizzy. She wore her curly all summer, so this would just be a larger version of what Fitz had seen before.

"Do you want to have dinner?" he suddenly asked.

"Tonight?"

"Yes. Sorry. Failing miserably again."

"Stop! That's the third time you've characterized yourself as failing miserably. The first time was on the phone when you asked me out. I'd say that was a success. Earlier, when you couldn't stop yourself from mauling me. Which, I welcomed, by the way. And now. Social cues, Fitz. Of course I want to have dinner."

"You're right. Okay. I'm awesome, you're awesome, we're awesome and we're having dinner."

"Awesome," she said, turning to face him. She was smiling broadly.

"It won't always be like this," Fitz said quietly.

"What do you mean?"

"At some point, when I start believing that you're real, I won't need to double-check. That's what my last therapist told me, anyway."

"You don't still see someone?"

"Not regularly. I did, after Oliver died, and then sporadically when I was back here. But if I'm working and busy or somewhere else, I can usually manage."

"So, dinner?" she said, taking a loose string off of his bathing suit and discarding it on the pool deck. It felt natural.

"Yeah. Where should we go?"

"I've been wanting to go back to the barbecue place near Henry's. I've only been once. We could meet there."

"Yes."

Olivia laughed. "This has been a good day. Thank you."

"Do you have to go right now?"

"No," she said, turning her face toward the sun. "I can wait a few minutes."

"Good." He reached for her and they held hands in between their lounge chairs. After another thirty minutes, Olivia said she had to go and freshen up. Fitz walked her to the door where they shared a kiss and he sent her on her way.

The feeling she had as she took the elevator to the ground floor was unlike anything she had felt. Her knees were slightly weak. Her eyes felt a little heavy. She might have been seeing stars.

As Fitz made his way to the patio to grab his shoes and the towels, he stopped as he looked at the pool. At the tile, some of it fragile, some of it more robust, but when put together, simply beautiful.


	5. Chapter 5

As Olivia walked to meet Fitz for dinner, she replayed many of the moments from their fun afternoon. There were a lot of great ones. She kept coming back to how timid he had been, almost afraid to be honest about what he wanted, at first. This was new for her, and also unexpected. She was used to men being overly-forward almost to the point of aggression. Because of this dating experience, she found herself fighting fire with fire, trying to control situations and control people. It had never ended well, obviously. But this realization, that perhaps her response was not actually who she was as a person but just that, a response, was kind of a big deal.

Because what if she had just needed to be patient? To wait for the person who wouldn't force her to be someone else?

She shook her head. She had no way of knowing if Fitz was "the one." On the other hand, knowing there were men like Fitz was pretty good information to have.

She had dressed for dinner in a black cotton wrap dress. She wore silver ballet flats. No heels tonight. She wanted to give her feet a break, and she also liked feeling small and petite next to Fitz.

He had gotten to the restaurant first, which shouldn't have surprised her. It wasn't a big place, so she saw him near the back and waved off the host. He stood to greet her and handed her a single white rose.

"Much easier to carry if we take a stroll after dinner," he said, kissing her on the cheek.

"Thank you," she said, sitting down across the table from him. "How was your afternoon?"

He smiled, then looked down.

"What?" she asked.

"I missed you when you left," he said, slowly looking up and making eye contact with her. She bit her lip and put her hair behind her ear.

"You're going to need to not be so lovely if you expect me to be a gentlemen during dinner," he said with a playfully sinister grin.

It felt to Olivia like Fitz had heard her thoughts on the walk over, heard her call him timid. This man across the table was not acting timid.

"Who are you and what have you done with the Fitz who apologized for kissing me?" she asked, sitting forward and placing her chin on top of her hands, waiting for a response.

"You had some good points. I thought about them, and you, after you left. And you're right, I shouldn't feel like I have to apologize for how I'm feeling. It's just in my nature to try and do what's right, except with you I'm not sure what it is. So instead, I'll just say what I'm feeling."

She nodded.

"And to be clear, I'm feeling like I want to be kissing you again."

"Noted," she said, unfolding her napkin and putting it on her lap. "What looks good?" she said, opening her menu. She was messing with him. She hid behind the menu for a couple of seconds before peeking over the top to find him staring at her.

"I can't concentrate when I can feel your eyes through the menu," she said.

"How can we fix this situation?"

"What makes you think I know how to fix it?" she asked.

"I think you do." His voice was low, an almost-whisper.

She looked around. There was only one other table in use in their corner of the restaurant. Another couple, already enjoying their entrees. She set her menu down on the table and stood, leaning over the flowers and candle in the center. He had his forearms resting on the table and she put a hand on each one. She felt a small shudder but couldn't tell if it came from him or her. She leaned forward and gave him a soft, slow kiss. It wasn't particularly passionate, but it was full of feeling. They both smiled, and when Olivia started to sit back down he snuck one more quick peck on her lips. She giggled like a teenager.

"Will that at least get you through the appetizer?" she asked, picking up her menu again.

"We'll see," he said. "Should we get the hush puppies?"

They ate a feast of delicious barbeque food. They talked as they always did. Their feet were tangled under the table. Fitz held her hand across it. After sharing a peach cobbler, they decided to walk off some of the calories and see a movie in Union Square. They held hands as they walked. Occasionally Fitz would lean down and kiss her, and she would always stop walking and kiss him back.

"Do you go to the movies a lot?" she asked.

"Not really. Often I can get copies to watch at home. I like movies a lot. It's why I wanted to be in them. And I like the theater, it's just been easier lately to stay home."

"You are a recluse, after all," she said, jokingly referencing his reputation.

"I really like to stay home. I just enjoy the quiet."

She stopped. "We don't have to see a movie. It was only a suggestion."

"No, no. I want to. It's different when you have someone to go with."

They watched dark family comedy and shared an iced tea, still too full for snacks. As they made their way out of the theater, hand in hand, the man behind them tapped Fitz on the shoulder.

"Excuse me, Fitz?" the man said.

Fitz stopped. "Yes?"

"Oh man, I thought it was you. I told my wife, that's Fitz Grant, and she was all, no way he goes to the movies in Union Square, that guy hates crowds, but it's you!"

Fitz realized something then. Normally, it was this exact situation that would have him give a curt hello and goodbye and make a quick exit. But he quickly glanced down at his hand, which was holding Olivia's, and realized he had hit the nail on the head earlier. It felt different, and better, to not be alone.

"It's me. Pleasure to meet you, man. What'd you say your name was?"

They spoke for a minute, and the man was able to prove his wife wrong when she wandered into the almost empty theater looking for him. Fitz introduced Olivia as his friend, and then wasn't sure what to do when the man's wife asked her to take a picture of them with Fitz. She waved him off, happily taking a few shots.

"Thanks," he said, kissing her hand as they made their way to the subway.

"Of course. You doing okay?" she asked.

"Yes. More than okay."

They weren't able to find seats on the train. The Friday night crowds were out. Instead, they stood face to face. Fitz's long arms were raised over his head to hold onto the bar for stability, and Olivia held onto his belt loops. Every time the train swayed, lurched or stopped, they leaned into each other to stay upright. It felt like a choreographed dance. Once Olivia almost stumbled, and Fitz dropped an arm and wrapped it around her waist, pulling her close to him.

He leaned down and whispered in her ear. "I like how you just fit. Pretty convenient."

She found herself without the ability to overthink anything, and turned her head to kiss his neck. It was the only response she had.

His grip on her waist tightened as she tickled his neck with her lips and eyelashes.

"Fuck," he whispered, much to her delight.

"Language, Fitz. Someone might recognize you."

She looked up at him, her brown eyes almost shining.

"That's just cruel," he said, putting some of her hair behind her ear. He had wanted to do that since she had done it at the dinner table.

"A serious movie star shouldn't be necking with a random woman on the train. That's all I'm saying."

"You're not random."

"To all of these people, I'm definitely random."

He rolled his eyes.

"Did you just roll your eyes?"

"I did. That's ridiculous. You're anything but random."

"To you, maybe."

"Does anyone else matter?" he asked, and then looked outside of the train window. "This is us."

He grabbed her hand and led her off of the train. They made it up to street level and Olivia realized she had missed her stop. They were three blocks from Fitz's apartment.

"You meant to get off at your stop, didn't you?" he said, noticing the look in her eyes.

"I was planning on it, yeah. But not because I don't want to come over. If you were going to ask me up. I have to pack for the Hamptons, I leave on Sunday."

"What?" he asked. This hadn't come up in any of their conversations. Not that he could remember.

"I spend this last week of summer there with my parents. I have for the past ten years or so, anyway. I'm sorry I didn't mention it, it's been at the back of my mind because I've been busy and then we met and …" she trailed off, looking at him.

"Right, of course. Sorry, I just had plans to see you every day for the near future. In my mind. I suppose I should have run those plans by you."

"Well, tomorrow is Saturday," she said, stepping toward him.

"Can't you pack tomorrow?" he said, wrapping his arms around her waist and lifting her off of her feet, kissing her shamelessly in the middle of the sidewalk.

"I can. Or I can do it tonight and see you again tomorrow without any distractions." Her arms were around her neck. She was allowing herself to be suspended in the air, in public, and she didn't care.

He sighed. "Fine. But I'm walking you home like this."

He started moving down the sidewalk, and she laughed so hard he had to put her down. They both wiped the tears of laughter from their eyes, and then he grabbed her hand again and walked her to her apartment building.

"Thanks for another great date," she said, standing on her tip toes and kissing him softly.

"You're welcome. Thank you." It was taking everything in his power not to invite himself up to her place. He wanted to see it, yes. But he also wanted to see her.

"Call you tomorrow?" she said, looking for her keys.

"Yes please," he said, leaning against the side of the building and crossing his arms. "Text me when you get in safely?"

"I will. Night," she said, walking into her building.

The ride to the fourth floor didn't take very long, but for the entire trip she pictured Fitz standing outside her building. He had wanted to come up. She had wanted him to come up. The practical Olivia had won. She opened the door and grabbed her phone from her purse.

**I'm in. **

She waited for his response.

**I'm still downstairs. **

She stared at her phone. Her hands were shaking. She was smiling. She could only think of one thing to reply.

**Yes.**

It wasn't quite that simple, because she had to call her doorman. So a few minutes passed before there was a knock at the door. She took a deep breath and smoothed out her dress before she opened it.

Fitz was leaning against the door frame.

"You have to pack," he said, smiling.

"You were still downstairs."

"I was. Now I'm here."

They stared at each other for what was probably only a second, and then he was taking the half step toward her, putting his hands on her face and pulling her up and to his lips.

This kiss – this kiss was passionate. She heard herself moan and him respond in the same way. He walked her inside, still kissing, and kicked the door closed behind him. She walked backward to her couch, which in her small apartment wasn't that far away, and they sat down, never unlocking their lips. That only lasted until Fitz pulled away and then rather adeptly for a man who claimed not to have a lot of dating experience had her on her back, with her head on a throw pillow, him wedged between Olivia's body and the couch. He tickled her side while he nibbled on her neck. She squirmed. She threw one of her legs over his, and the momentum rolled him so he was practically on top of her. They kissed for a while longer, until it was finally necessary to come up for air. He put his head on her shoulder, and she ran her hands through his hair while they breathed in unison.

"Excuse my manners, you didn't even get a tour."

She felt him smile.

"Remember, no apologizing."

"Well, this is my apartment. The living room, dining room and kitchen are all right here."

He separated himself from her body, pulling both of them so they were sitting facing each other on the couch.

"It's really nice. It feels like you."

She had light brown suede couches with tan, grey and white pillows. She liked to decorate in neutrals. She had a television and a record player on the wall opposite the couch.

"Records?" he asked.

"It was my grandfathers. I don't listen that often, but I couldn't part with it."

"I'm glad. I want to test it out, see how it sounds."

"Anytime."

"How long have you lived here?"

"Six years. I started out in a true studio, bed in the corner, no seating area. But when I got my current job, it came with a raise, and I found a place with actual doors and walls."

"We had a studio, Oli and I, and one of those fake walls to separate our beds. It was atrocious. He would have women over, and they had no shame, so I would be sitting with my laptop and headphones, just waiting for them to finish. I finally started going to the coffee shop. Had to have a little self respect."

She laughed. "Oh man, that's awful. But good for him. He must have been special if the ladies were willing to forego privacy."

"I guess so. I hadn't thought of it like that."

He pulled her close to him, and they laid down, him pressed up against the back of the couch with her in front of him, her back pressed into his chest, her legs in line with his, his right arm around her waist, making sure she wouldn't fall.

"This is nice," she said. It wasn't eloquent, but it was the best she could do. She was too comfortable.

"Really nice," he said, shifting to get his arms in a more natural position.

"I'm going to fall asleep."

"Me too. I spent the afternoon in the sun with a beautiful woman. Totally spent."

She turned her head and kissed him.

"I have to pack," she said. They both laughed.

They fell asleep, waking up when one of Olivia's neighbors returned home singing at 2:00 in the morning.

"I'm going to get a cab, Liv," he whispered.

She stirred. "Liv?"

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"I'm glad you were downstairs," she said as she stood up and stretched. "I'm totally going to pack right now. That was like a nap. I'm good to go."

"It all worked out."

He headed for the door, holding her hand.

"Can I see you before you go?"

"Yes."

"Okay, I'll call you."

"Sounds good. Tell me you got home okay, please."

He nodded. "Night."

They kissed, and though they both tried to make it quick, it turned into her arms around his neck, standing on his feet, and his hands in the side pockets of her dress.

"Okay, goodnight, Liv. For real this time."

"Third time's a charm," she said, and he smiled and headed for the elevator.

She did finish packing. And they did have dinner the following day, cooked by Fitz at his house, before she headed to the Hamptons. They texted or spoke every day while she was gone. They made plans to see each other Sunday night when she returned, before she went back to work and he began a busy week on set. It was all going so well, so simply, until Fitz's manager texted him a picture of Olivia and Fitz. You couldn't see their faces, it was them holding hands and walking out of a movie theater. Fitz looked at the screen shot, which was from a man's Instagram, with the caption, "You don't see movie stars at the movies every day. #fitzgrant." It wasn't the photo of Fitz with the couple, so he supposed they had honored his request. But it had been seen by the wrong person and was on a gossip website. Olivia was unrecognizable, and that was good. But Fitz hated to be on those sites, and hadn't been there for so long, that when she texted on Sunday to say she was on her way home, he didn't respond.


	6. Chapter 6

Olivia had enjoyed her week in the Hamptons with her parents. She read three books, drank a lot of iced tea and lemonade, played Scrabble, went swimming and rested. It was a great reboot before the school year began. She would report to work on Wednesday, and then students started the following Monday. It was an interesting time of year for a teacher; she was excited to go back, but also starting to mourn the freedom of the summer, for which she was very grateful.

She stepped off of the shuttle and checked her phone as soon as she was back in the city. She had been surprised not to hear from Fitz right away, and was even more surprised he hadn't responded at all. Surely he had done the math and knew she was arriving now. They had made plans to see each other tonight.

She sat down on a bench with her suitcase and debated. She could call him. They had spoken almost every day and texted regularly. Their conversations were sometimes playful, sometimes serious but always left her feeling happy. She hadn't detected a change that would make him not respond tonight.

On the other hand, she could just go home. Take a shower, relax. This is what the Olivia of a few weeks ago would have done. A guy doesn't respond? Get on with your life.

But this was Fitz, and she didn't feel like letting him off the hook. And what if something was wrong? There was no shame in calling. She took her phone out of her purse and hit his name, which was at the top of her list of recent calls.

He didn't answer. She held her phone for another few minutes, then stood up and hailed a cap to take her the rest of the way to her apartment.

Fitz had been in the shower when Olivia had tried calling. Noting the time, he figured she must have called when she arrived back in the city. He had a conflict of emotions seeing her missed call. He pictured her sitting there, deciding if she should reach out, calling and getting his voicemail. She had not left a message. He hated himself in that moment, because he wanted to see her. He wanted to talk to her. He wanted her.

He was standing in the middle of his bedroom with a towel around his waist when he realized this. He wanted her. What the hell was he doing? He hit her name and put the phone to his ear.

It went straight to voicemail. A glance at the clock, it was after 10:00. He stood there in the middle of his room frozen like a statue. When he looked up again, he knew what he had to do.

He dressed quickly in jeans and white t-shirt, along with his trusty Michigan baseball hat. His hair was almost dry. And he really didn't care if it got messed up on the trip to Olivia's. He grabbed his keys, wallet and phone and began the 20 minute walk to her apartment. Halfway there, he hailed a cab, wondering if the five minutes he saved would increase his odds of seeing her tonight. At her apartment, he greeted the doorman, who recognized him from last weekend and called Olivia's number to announce her guest's arrival.

Fitz stared at the door to the elevator lobby while the doorman waited with the phone to his ear. He finally greeted Olivia, told her Fitz was downstairs, and then listened to her response. Smiling, he hung up and buzzed Fitz in.

"Good luck, Mr. Grant," he said, shaking his head.

Olivia's door was open when he got there. He tapped lightly and entered her home.

"Liv? Hi. It's me."

She wasn't in sight. "Hi, I'm just unpacking, one sec," she called, presumably from her bedroom. He knew he hadn't earned the right to walk back and greet her there, so he sat at one of the chairs at her small kitchen table.

She came out a few minutes later with a laundry basket in her hands.

"I need to head to the basement. Walk with me?"

He hopped up. "Definitely. Let me carry it."

She stopped and looked him straight in the eyes. She was trying to figure out in a glance what was going on. His light blue eyes were serious but hopeful. She could tell, right in that moment, that he hadn't just been running late or missed her call. He wasn't going to come, and then changed his mind.

"Sure, thanks," she said, handing him the basket and grabbing her bag of quarters from a kitchen drawer.

Standing next to each other waiting for the elevator, there was an electric current between them. Fitz's muscles were somewhat flexed, and Olivia noticed his jaw muscles were flexing, too. When the elevator doors opened, he waited and let her go in first. The ride down to the laundry room was silent. When the doors opened again, she couldn't wait anymore. She stepped out and then turned to him.

"So, why did you bail?" she asked, crossing her arms.

"You'd like to discuss this in the hallway outside your laundry room?"

"Yes. Very much."

He smiled shyly and set down the basket. "Okay."

He stood back up and looked at her. She was stunning, even in cotton pajama shorts and grey velour sweatshirt. More than that, even though it was confirmed that he had majorly screwed up, he still felt happy. Even though what came next would be uncomfortable, he felt like it was worth the effort.

"First, I missed you like crazy and it's good to see you. Actually see you."

She nodded. She wasn't going to make this easy.

"Right, so that's the truth. I know we're going to see less of each other when we start working full time, and I was looking forward to tonight. Absence and fondness of heart and all that. I don't know how to explain this eloquently…"

"Just try, Fitz."

"I am. Trust me, I am. That's why I'm here."

She just looked at him with her head slightly tilted.

"That guy from the movies? He snapped a photo of us walking outside and posted it on Instagram. It's definitely me, us, but because you're so tiny and just seem to fit next to me, you're unrecognizable. We're holding hands. It made the rounds, and it's on a couple of gossip sites."

For Olivia, it was like the curtain had been pulled back. It all made sense. But she let him continue.

"My manager told me this morning. It's not a big deal, really. In fact my first thought was that at least it's not a photo or video from the subway."

They both blushed.

"But those sites are like wildfires, in a way. Once you're noticed, you kind of have to be on notice. I had been free and clear, for a long time, which granted me the freedom to just walk around, just be. I'm not sure yet, it's only been a day or two, but this could put me back to having to be more cautious. And before you say, how could you be more cautious, trust me, I have my ways."

She observed him for a moment, then took a breath. "I get all of that. And I'm sorry it happened, because I know how much you value your privacy. It's hard for me to relate, obviously, but I feel for you and I hear what you're saying. I just…"

"What?" He wanted her to continue.

"I just don't understand what any of that has to do with tonight. You're here in my basement. There's not another soul to be seen. I could have come to your place on my way back and nobody would have been the wiser. We didn't have plans to go on a walking tour of New York on a Saturday afternoon with name tags and megaphones."

He considered this, and she continued.

"If I'm being honest, I wasn't even sure that you had truly bailed. I thought maybe you had fallen asleep, or were in the shower or on the other line. So I need a little time to process that you had actually decided to stand me up."

"I'm sorry."

"For what?"

This was the old Olivia. This was the Olivia who had expectations for how she should be treated, how people should treat other people.

"For considering, even for a minute, that I shouldn't see you tonight."

"It was more than a minute. It was a couple of hours."

"Fine, you're right. I'm sorry. I wanted to flake, that was my initial response, and then I thought about it, thought about you, and realized it was the wrong decision. I'm happy to continue groveling if it's necessary."

"I'm not asking you to grovel."

"It kind of feels like you are. Trust me, I know I fucked up. I'm here, and I'm truly sorry, but what else can I say?"

She sighed. "I don't know. But I think you should probably go. Thanks for carrying my laundry for me. Can we talk tomorrow?" She bent down to grab the basket from the floor where it had created a physical barrier that mirrored the emotional one they had set up during this conversation.

He bent down and put his hands on top of hers, preventing her from moving.

"Fitz, move. I'm serious. I don't want to talk about this right now."

"How can that be, Liv? Five minutes ago you demanded we talk about it in a basement hallway. Now you don't want to?"

"I heard what you said. I'm not sure where to go from here. Can we please just talk tomorrow?"

"We can talk tomorrow. But I'm not leaving you like this."

"Like what?"

"You're clearly upset. Rightfully so. I wish you'd just talk to me, though. How can I say the right thing if I don't know what's bothering you?"

"It's not about saying the right thing."

"Give me a break. I just explained everything to you and apologized, and it wasn't satisfactory. Otherwise you wouldn't be asking me to leave. So what is going on?"

She had to give him a little credit. He was calling her on her shit. She had asked him to explain and was dismissing him post-explanation. Most guys got frustrated at this point and just did as she requested. Fitz was frustrated, but he had also called her Liv, and he was still here.

"This is hard for me. I'm trying to balance what it's like to see you, which is exactly how I imagined, though I didn't picture the hat, it's a nice look for you. Anyway, I'm trying to balance that with the crushing disappointment of knowing you weren't going to call."

"But I did call."

"You did. A little late."

"Better late than never?" he asked, smiling for the first time in what felt like days.

"I'm trying not to sound like some needy woman here. I'm not sure how to convey what I'm feeling or what I need you to say without sounding desperate."

"I'm desperate to hold you again."

"Fitz."

"What? Sometimes it's okay to be a little desperate."

"I was so excited to see you. I thought you felt the same."

"I do!"

"But…"

"Look, Liv. I do not want to be on those sites. I do not want talk show hosts asking me if I have a girlfriend. I do not want paparazzi following me around Manhattan, and I certainly don't want them following you or anyone else I care about. That's what I was thinking when I decided not to call you back. It has nothing to do with how I feel about you. You have to know that."

She had thought she knew that. Every signal he had sent up until tonight had told her that his feelings matched those words.

"If you really want me to go," he said, taking a few steps backward toward the elevator, "I'm not going to force myself on you and your laundry."

"Just stop. Stop for a second," she said, putting up a hand.

"Yes, Ms. Pope."

"No jokes, Fitz."

"Sorry."

"This is crazy! Of course I don't want you to go. Not really."

"Great. Let's do what we need to do down here and then you can tell me all about the characters on the Hamptons shuttle." He took two steps toward her and leaned down to grab the laundry basket.

"Wait."

He respected her command and stood up.

"I don't want you to go. That's true. I can't think of a better way to say this, so I'll just say it: my confidence is in the figurative basement because you almost stood me up tonight. I wish I didn't know that. What you've said, your explanation, it's logical. But I still feel stupid, like maybe I'm not quite enough. And I hate myself for saying that! It's definitely not something I've ever admitted aloud to a person. But it's the truth. So here were are."

"Literally, in the basement."

"Fitz! No jokes!"

"You're right, I'm sorry. Look, here's what I think. I think the only way we're going to move forward from here is to just try. If you still feel like you need some space after we move this godforsaken laundry basket out of the way and hold each other, then I'll go. But Olivia, this has nothing, absolutely nothing to do with you not being enough. You are more than enough. You are more than a guy like me dreams about. I'm the idiot here. Not you. You have to trust me on that."

He had zoomed in on the bottom line. It pained Olivia to feel like she had been duped. She still didn't have the courage to tell him he was right, but she had heard enough. She used her foot to slide the laundry out of the way. He knew what she meant.

"Thank God," he said, closing the gap between then and wrapping his arms around her shoulders. She put her arms around his waist and turned her head to the side, resting it against his chest. She melted into his embrace, and he tightened with one hand and began playing with the curls of her hair with the other.

"I'm truly sorry," he whispered into her ear, sending goose bumps up and down her entire body. All she could do was nod.

They stood there for one minute, maybe ten, and then he kissed her forehead and bent to grab the laundry. She led the way and then watched with amusement as he started the machine for her.

"Big ol' movie star knows how to do laundry. Later at 10:00 on Entertainment Tonight."

"Oh shut up," he said, turning quickly and cornering her in between a washing machine and a folding table.

"That's no way to speak to a lady, Mr. Grant," she said, feeling feisty now.

"Please be quiet and kiss me," he said, putting a hand on either side of her face.

How could she not after he asked so nicely? There was nowhere for her hands except on his hips, and she had to stand on her toes to kiss him the way she wanted. The way he clearly wanted. By the time they stopped to catch their breath, her lips felt swollen and her skin felt sensitive, and she realized he must not have shaved this morning. It was an exquisite pain, and she didn't mind.

"How much longer?" he asked, nodding to the washing machine that held her clothes.

"Probably 15 minutes."

There was a small table with one chair in the corner of the room. He sat down and patted his lap. Instead of sitting there, however, she sat on the table in front of him. While they waited to switch her clothes from the washer to the dryer, she told him about the woman on the shuttle with a potato and a pair of nylons in her duffle bag and other observations from the trip. They would kiss occasionally, and when the buzzer finally sounded his hands were on her calves, her head tilted bag as he massaged her legs.

"Laundry's done," she said, stretching and standing up in front of Fitz. He put a hand on each of her legs and pulled her in between his. As she was standing and he was sitting, this left his mouth about in line with her belly button. He shook his head ever so softly, and the gentle brush of his nose on her stomach made her shudder.

"Fitz, the laundry," she said, trying to escape his grasp.

"Fuck the laundry," he said, finally succumbing to the slow build of needing her that had started as soon as he had decided to come over tonight.

He stood up quickly and took her with him, setting her on the table. As he pulled her right up to the edge of the table and she wrapped her legs around his waist, it reminded them both of his hello kiss during their Friday date at his apartment. She had her hands on his back, and his were on hers to help her keep her balance, and they kissed more passionately than they ever had. He kissed her cheeks, her lips, her chin, her neck, her eyes, her ears, her nose. She arched her back to press their bodies together, which was almost too much for either of them to take. Before either of them could consciously understand what was happening, she was lying back on the table and he was lifting her shirt and peppering her stomach with kisses. He had his hands on the waist of her shorts as he did so, and she squirmed under the contact. She wrapped her fingers around his curly hair and turned his head to the left without thinking. It felt so good. He wanted, so badly, to remove her shorts and have his way with her. But it wasn't the time or place. Maybe the time, but definitely not the place. He kissed her side, just above her hip, one more time and then stood up and offered her his hand. She smiled and rolled her eyes.

"What?" he said, turning her around and brushing invisible dust from the table off of her back.

"You're so gentlemanly sometimes, and then other times, not."

"I can't help it, Liv."

"I'm glad," she said, kissing him quickly and making her way to the washing machine to transfer her clothes to the dryer.

"We have an hour or so before those are done. Let's wait upstairs. Not that this hasn't been a lovely experience."

"Sounds good," he said. "After you."

She led the way to the elevator. The ride up was much better than the ride down. This time they stood close to each other and held hands. It wasn't a long trip, but it was enough time for each of them to consider what might happen next. They had known each other for three weeks. They had been a handful of dates and had spoken almost every day. The chemistry was intense. For Olivia, the questions were about how soon is too soon to sleep with someone? The magazines she read didn't have articles about that, and she hadn't seriously dated anyone in a while. She had a couple of one-night stands, or boyfriends of a couple of months, but nothing serious. The stakes felt higher with Fitz. And for Fitz, the questions were about the implications of sleeping with Olivia, tonight or any night. He wasn't sure how to manage, for lack of a better word, having these feelings for someone. How would it work if he wasn't living in New York? How will they see each other as often as they want when she's working full time?

Those questions were certainly valid, and they considered them for the sixty-second ride to Olivia's floor. But as she led him to her apartment, closed the door and locked it and pulled her t-shirt over her head, the questions fell to the floor with her clothing and Fitz scooped her up and carried her to the bedroom.


	7. Chapter 7

Later, much later, Olivia bent over at her stomach from her sitting position over Fitz, breathing heavily and finding herself chest to chest with him. His arms were spread and he was basically panting, but he brought one hand to her back. She slowly extracted herself from his body and found a spot right next to and facing him, and he brought his left arm in and wrapped it around her.

"Is this the longest either of us has gone with speaking?" she asked.

"Possibly," he said. He couldn't form a complete sentence if he tried.

What had just happened? Fitz was only sure it wasn't a dream because Olivia's naked body was pressed against his, her left leg hooked over his and her breath tickling his chest. This had not been what he planned when he had decided to man up and come over to Olivia's apartment tonight. He hadn't planned it, but it also felt incredibly right. They had made love twice in the span of an hour. The first time was quick. Quicker than he would have liked, but satisfying for both of them. They had fallen asleep briefly, but as soon as a siren from the street roused them, he couldn't help himself. He had kissed her over her entire body, in places that had been covered by clothing earlier. She relished the attention, welcoming him and kissing his arms and his neck while he set to work. Before he could taste her the way he really wanted, she was begging him to join her, so he did. Propping himself up and making direct eye contact with her, he entered her at the same time as he kissed her ever-so-softly. She brushed his hair off of his forehead tenderly, and then started nibbling on his ear. He kept his pace steady, and at some point they rolled on their sides, facing each other and holding each other while she bit her lip and he kissed her collarbone and toyed with her breasts. It felt deliberate, and it was. When she pushed him onto his back and then slowly started up again, keeping her hands on his chest and rolling her head back, he lost it. She was beautiful, and she was his. Those thoughts sent him, and then her, over the edge.

Which led them to wear they were now, him with his arm around her, and Olivia molded into his side.

"I guess it's a good thing you decided to come over," she said, snuggling into him. "I would have hated to miss out on whatever that just was."

He laughed. "Me too. I definitely didn't expect to end up here. Like, in your bed."

She propped herself up on an elbow. "You didn't?"

"I mean, not tonight."

She nodded. "I don't know how this works. Am I a tramp?" She was kidding, mostly, and he knew it.

"Definitely a notch in my bedpost. Hopefully I can squeeze you in, the bedpost is kind of full." He kissed her cheek and pulled her back down so he could hold her. "You're not a tramp. We like each other, and there's nobody else."

She liked that he had the confidence to say that.

"That is true. Back to this bedpost of yours, though. What kind of range are we walking about? More than five, less than 50?"

"50?! Who do you take me for? More than five, less than 15."

She nodded. "Same for me."

"None as lovely as you, not even close," he said quietly. He was either thinking or getting sleepy, or maybe both.

"Thank you for saying that."

"I could fall asleep. I can go if you'd rather."

"Go where?"

"Home."

"The only place you can go is to the basement to get my clothes from the dryer. I'll be waiting and will probably reward you for your services."

He turned. "Oh yeah?"

"Probably."

"In that case, I'm feeling a sudden burst of energy. Where are your keys?"

She directed him to her keys and he dressed quickly (no boxers, just his jeans, which was enough to get her ready for his return) and slipped out of the apartment. He was back in less than three minutes, breathing heavily as he set the laundry basket in front of the closet and took off his clothes.

As he pulled the bedspread back and crawled on top of her, she put her arms around his neck and pulled him onto her.

"I'm crushing you," he said, laughing.

"I like it," she said, holding him tight. "Now, who said something about a reward?"

"You did, but I'm really okay just lying here with you."

"Nonsense," she said, rolling him onto his back and doing to him things she had never enjoyed. Until now.

They woke up with their backs to each other. In romantic comedies, couples always fall asleep holding each other. But this was real life, and they were both so content that they had slept hard for six hours. The late August sunrise hit Fitz's eyes first, and he rolled onto his back and stretched. He glanced at Olivia. Sometime during the night she had slipped into his white t-shirt. It was baggy on her, and perfect. She must have felt him moving or the sun or a combination of both, because she rolled onto her side and faced him.

"Morning," he said. "I like you in my shirt."

"Good morning," she said, yawning. "I usually sleep in a night-shirt, and yours was right here, so thanks."

"I slept incredibly well. Hard to believe that's the sun."

"Same," she said.

He scooted closer to her. "What are you doing today?"

They talked about their plans. Olivia had to run errands and start seriously thinking about the school year. Fitz was supposed to be on set up 8:00.

"I'm struggling here, because I want to see you tonight and every night. But I don't know, maybe we should be realistic and start thinking about what it might be like when things get busy."

"You're suggesting we don't see each other tonight so that we can prematurely miss each other?"

"It sounds silly when you say it like that."

"Because it is. I understand what you're saying, but I'm of the mindset that we should just enjoy it while we can. This goes against the way I've run my life up to this point, but I'm willing to make some adjustments if you are."

He smiled. "Definitely. Do you want to come to set later?"

"I mean, I'd love to, but that's going from zero to 60 isn't it?"

"What do you mean?"

"Won't you have to introduce me to people? It seems like that would put you right back where you were scared of being last night."

"With you in my shirt and me in your bed, I don't care about the rest of the world."

She blushed. "But it's out there, whether you like it or not."

"I know," he sighed. "We'll figure this out, though. Right?"

"I think if we want to figure it out, we will."

"So that's a yes?"

"Yes," she said, rubbing her hand over this growing-in facial hair.

"Then I want you to come to set. I want to show you where I spend my time. I'll think about how to deal with it and then just deal with it."

"I'm sorry you have to think about how to deal with me."

"Stop. It's not you. It's the situation."

It was quiet for a minute.

"I have a question. I don't know how to ask it gracefully," she said.

"Ask away."

"I'm learning just how much you value your privacy. Like I said last night, I understand it. I'm just wondering if you're plan, for life, is to just be alone. If you think it's easier to just be alone than to have to share any of yourself with anyone else."

"You sound like my sisters."

"Not the first time you've said that to me, probably won't be the last."

They laughed, which only boosted his confidence to say what he was about to say, despite the battle going on between his head and his heart.

"You make a fair point. Up until now, I truly felt like I would probably just make a movie a year and spend the rest of my time at my house in Kauai, taking photos. Probably get a dog, maybe a motorcycle."

"No. No motorcycle."

He laughed. "Okay, a jet ski."

"Fine."

"That is, or was, my plan."

"I believe you."

"I'd still like to do a variation of that plan. I'm never going to live in L.A. or Manhattan full time, it's just not for me. I love it here, and I love that I met you here, but it's not home. It doesn't feel that way to me."

She stayed quiet.

"All of that said, if seeing you regularly means spending more time here, then I'll have to adjust."

Her stomach fluttered. She blushed. She felt nauseous. How embarrassing.

"You're blushing."

"You make me blush."

"I know. I love it."

"You're cruel."

"So are you, wearing my shirt better than me."

She crawled over him and stood up, pretending to walk the runway at a fashion show. Her bedroom wasn't large, but Fitz laughed and clapped and then sat up and reached for her. She sat on the edge of the bed, and they stared at each other.

"I'm so glad I met you," he whispered.

"Me too."

"So you're saying if I can get over my aversion to New York and the general public, we can see where this goes?"

"We can see where this goes. Not so concerned about the public, but seeing as I live here…" she trailed off.

"Understood." He kissed her temple. "May I use your shower?"

"Of course. Let me grab you a towel. Do you need anything else?"

"You?"

"I'd love to, but it's almost 7:00. You don't want to be late, and I don't want to make you late. Rain check?"

"Definitely."

She grabbed two towels out of her hallway closet and he made his way to the bathroom. As she listened to the running water, instead of getting dressed or cleaning up or putting away the laundry, she sat on the edge of her bed lost in thought.

What had just happened? Less than 12 hours ago, she was on the verge of being stood up. She hadn't really had a chance to process what that felt like because Fitz had showed up unannounced. In the basement, he had absolutely nailed her inner monologue, seemingly because he just understood her. She didn't want to be made a fool. But what kind of fool was she for initiating what was admittedly the best sex of her life? The control freak Olivia would have sent him away on principle. But before she can even close her apartment door, she's taking off her shirt and he is taking her to her bed. She doubted she gave it more than one minute of thought, which was definitely a record.

Despite the doubts, which were only creeping in now that the sun had risen and life was moving forward, she had to admit that in the moment, or moments, there had been no doubt. What had begun as a frenzied rush to feel all of each other had ended tenderly. She didn't feel self-conscious, then or now. And Fitz had taken care of her. He had looked her in the eyes and held her even as he was overcome with pleasure. And this morning, he had asked her to visit him at work.

"Penny for your thoughts."

His baritone brought her back to the moment.

"Just watching the highlight reel in my head," she said, standing and facing him. He looked good in a towel. She knew this from their time spent at the pool, but it was a nice way to start the day.

"From last night?"

She nodded.

"I just did the same thing in there."

She turned her head and widened her eyes.

"That is not what it sounds like. You know what I mean."

"I think so."

He grabbed his clothes and started getting dressed. She pulled her robe off of the hook on the door and wrapped herself in it.

"So tonight. I'm usually done around 8:30. Can I text you and tell you how things are going?"

"Sure. I'm supposed to have dinner with a friend, but I'll keep a look out for you."

He sighed. "You don't know how much I like the sound of that."

She smiled. "I know what you mean."

He was ready to go and needed to head out. He walked toward her and wrapped his arms around her.

"You smell good," she said. "Is that my soap?"

"I couldn't resist," he said.

"You used my lavender and chamomile soap?" she said, laughing. Not giggling, outright laughing.

"It smells like you! I'm not ashamed." He was laughing too.

"Oh man, this will keep me smiling for a while."

"A secondary benefit," he said.

They walked to her door. She stood on her toes and kissed him softly.

"I'm glad you came over. I would have missed you."

She was trying to convey the sum of all she had been feeling. That she had enjoyed their time together. That she had missed him while she was away. That if had decided to end whatever this was because of his fears she would have been sorry.

"Me too. Thanks for understanding. See you tonight."

With one more kiss, he slipped into the stairwell and she made her way to the shower.

Olivia met her friend at a café uptown. She had gone to college with Lindsay, and then kept in touch while Lindsey attended NYU for law school. They tried to see each other at least once a month, but since Olivia had been gone for most of the summer, tonight's dinner would be all about catching up on a few months worth of updates. Near the end of the meal, Olivia still hadn't mentioned Fitz. It was almost as if saying it would make it real, and she wasn't yet ready to present him to an open forum. She wanted to keep him all to herself.

She parted ways with her friend after marking their calendars for lunch in three weeks. It was 8:20, and she didn't have a text from Fitz. She decided to walk home. It would be about 30 minutes, and if she hadn't heard from him they would just have to make plans for another time.

She was less than five minutes from her building when her phone buzzed. He was calling, not texting.

"Hello," she said. More of a statement, less of a question.

"Hi. How was your day?"

"Good, thanks. Crossed quite a few things off of my list, met my friend for dinner. Yours?"

"Good. Busy. I'm sorry I'm late in calling."

"No problem at all."

"We're running late here. I'll need another hour, probably. I'm so sorry."

"You're going to have to stop doing that."

"Doing what?"

"Apologizing. I'm not upset. It happens."

"Okay."

There was silence then.

"I'm sorry if that sounded harsh. I just don't want you to feel like you have to apologize to me all the time. I'm getting to know you. Don't forget, we agreed we'll figure this out."

"Olivia Pope, my voice of reason."

"You're welcome."

"Do you want to come over later? I can pick you up on my way."

"No you can't."

"What?"

"You didn't drive today."

"Shit. You're right."

"Why don't you text me when you're on your way? If it's not too late, I'll come over. If not, maybe tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow's no good. Really long day. We're at the midway point and there's a lot to do. Wednesday?"

"I start work. I can come over, but it can't be too late."

He sighed. "So we'll just figure something out?"

"It seems like that's the theme of the day."

"I have to get going. I'll call you as soon as I can."

"Okay. Hope the rest of tonight goes well."

"I miss you, Liv."

"I miss you too. Call me."

"Okay. Bye."

"Bye."

She was disappointed. But part of felt like maybe Fitz was right. Maybe they should get a taste of what a relationship might feel like – hours or days without seeing each other, conflicting schedules, only a few minutes to talk.

On the lot in Queens, Fitz focused on his work but in between takes found himself looking at the clock. It was past 10:00 and he knew he wouldn't see Olivia tonight. He excused himself and found a quiet place to send her a text.

**Still here. Don't want to wake you when I leave. Sleep well. **

It wasn't enough, but how could he say what he wanted to say in a text? That today had been a rollercoaster, that he missed her terribly but was also thrilled with the way the scenes were coming. That he wanted to see her but also needed to go to his place tonight. That this was new to him and he would need some time to figure out how to navigate it.

**Okay. Hope to talk to you tomorrow, and hope you still smell like my soap. Night. **

She didn't want to make him feel bad for having to cancel their plans. But as she laid in bed flashing back to what had transpired their the previous night, she wondered how she would be able to cope with having feelings – strong feelings – for someone who led such a different life.


	8. Chapter 8

It would almost two weeks before Olivia and Fitz saw each other again.

Their schedules just didn't mesh. She went back to work, and he was in full swing on set. As much as she wanted to see him, she didn't have the energy to meet after 10:00 when she had to be at work the following morning at 7:30. They spoke every day, even if it was just for a few minutes, but as the second week began she realized that it was starting to feel normal, the missing him coupled with the acceptance that another day would pass without seeing him.

As she made her way home at the end of the first week with students, she felt her phone vibrate in the large leather tote she used for work. She had splurged on it while she had been shopping with her mom in the Hamptons. She appreciated well-made items, which tended to be expensive. She couldn't help herself.

"Hello?" she said. She had grabbed the phone without looking at the caller i.d.

"Hi, it's me." He didn't announce himself. He hoped she still recognized his voice.

"Hi there," she said. "How are you?"

"Doing well. I'm actually just about to leave. I was wondering, hoping, that you might be free? I can come over, or we could grab a drink."

"Let's meet somewhere. Or did you drive? Is that too much work?"

"I took a car today. I was hoping to reach you and didn't want to have to deal with driving. Where are you now?"

"I'm about to get on the train."

"Should we meet at Henry's?"

"Sure. Now?"

"I'm leaving now if you are."

"Sounds good. See you soon."

"See you."

It was a very businesslike conversation. Fitz stared at the phone in his hand when he ended the call. It had to be done, and really, the sooner they made plans the sooner he could see her. He grabbed his backpack, put on his Michigan hat and texted the car service to let them know he was ready to go.

45 minutes later, he walked into Henry's and saw that Olivia had beat him to the bar. Friday traffic in Manhattan could be unpredictable, but he still hated to make her wait. He always made it a point to be early to meetings so the people he was meeting knew how much he valued their time. He shook his head again, trying to center himself. This wasn't a meeting. He was annoyed with himself for even equating the two.

Henry wasn't behind the bar yet. He didn't usually arrive until much later on Friday nights so he could help close out the busy evening. The kid working the counter didn't recognize him, which gave him a chance to observe Olivia for a few seconds before approaching her.

She didn't look nervous, but she didn't look exactly the same as he had been imagining in his head for the past two weeks. She was wearing slim jeans, gold sandals and polo shirt that had an emblem over her left breast. It was the most casual he had ever seen her dressed. Her hair was down, and it looked like she was only wearing lip gloss. She was staring into space, barely blinking. When she licked her lips and turned her head to scan the bar, she spotted him watching her and began to stand.

He started toward her and as soon as he was closer she looked like his Liv. The same shy smile, the same wide eyes, the same open arms. She put her arms around his waist and he enveloped her in an embrace.

"Hi," she said, her voice muffled from his chest where she had buried her face in his t-shirt.

"Hi there," he said. "This is nice." He rested his chin on top of her head.

"Really nice. Sorry I didn't have a chance to change," she said, stepping back and smoothing out her shirt. He noticed the emblem was for her school.

"Casual Friday?" he said, running a finger over the embroidery, an excuse to touch her again.

She nodded. "You too?" she said, looking at his hat.

He nodded. "Precautionary. And I need a shower. Lots of product today."

They talked about his film. They talked about her students. They shared a basket of fries and a pitcher of sangria. After a couple of hours, Olivia caught Fitz checking his watch.

"Do you have to work tomorrow?" she asked.

"I do. Early call. We're more than halfway, and they want to keep pushing. Normally I don't mind…" he trailed off.

"We should settle our check then." She found her wallet in her bag. Fitz tried to stop her.

"Liv, you are not paying for this."

"Let me treat you."

"You being here is the treat."

She rolled her eyes. "Nice try, sir. Come on, I can get this."

He decided it wasn't worth the battle and let her pay for their snack. When she got back from the bar, she stood next to her chair and sorted through her things.

"Does that bag happen to have a toothbrush and clean shirt in it? It could definitely fit," he said, smiling.

"You think you're the first person to comment about my fabulous bag? Please. And for your information, it does contain clothes. Gym clothes."

He raised his eyebrows. "A little presumptive of you, Ms. Pope, don't you think?"

She put the bag over her shoulder. "Not at all. If you aren't going to man up and ask me over, I'll go to the gym and head home to my book and my bed." She pursed her lips, proud of herself.

"I mean, if you have plans, I'd hate to get in the way. But I've missed you. And I'd prefer you in my bed."

Olivia couldn't help but blush. For the first time, really, since she'd met him, Fitz seemed fully confident and forward. She kind of liked it.

"Okay then." She turned and started walking toward the door. She could hear him laughing as he adjusted her hat and followed her out.

It was a Friday evening, and there were a lot of people out and about, and almost instinctually Olivia and Fitz knew the drill. He very quietly offered to carry her bag, and she gratefully accepted his request, but they walked silently. Heads down. No physical contact, no eye contact. When they got to a corner and had to wait to cross the street, Fitz stepped closer to her so that their bodies almost touched, but they still didn't talk. They were surrounded by maybe a dozen other people, heading out for their Friday night plans. It felt normal, and also wrong, because she wanted nothing more than to loop her arm through his. And he would have preferred to be leading her with his hand on the small of her back, or holding her hand. But this worked, and a few minutes later they were entering his building. His doorman greeted them both my name. They waited for the elevator. When it got to the ground floor, they stepped in and waited for the doors to close.

Fitz set her bag down and faced her at the same time that she faced him. He put a hand on either side of her cheek, and she held onto his t-shirt as their lips finally met. It was immediately intense. They knew they only had a short time until the elevator got to the penthouse. She stood on her tip toes and put her hands on the back of his neck, and he moaned and walked her backward until they were in the corner of the elevator. When the doors opened, they separated, breathing heavily. He picked up her bag and put his other arm over the door to hold it open.

"After you," he said, and he couldn't help but smile.

"Thank you," she said, reaching up and kissing his cheek as she passed him.

He stepped around her to open the door, and she took her bag and set it on the kitchen counter. She took a deep breath and looked around. It was exactly as she remembered, for the most part. It was different at night, especially because this time the pool lights weren't on, so she could see the lights of nearby buildings and a little sliver of sky.

"Do you mind if I shower?" he asked after setting his keys on the counter.

"Not at all. I might just have my way with your bookshelves though."

"By all means," he said, kissing her softly.

Twenty minutes later, he was dressed in jeans and a t-shirt and found her in his office. She had changed into a t-shirt, too, and was sitting cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by books.

"You weren't kidding," he said, watching her from the doorway.

"Fitz, these are first editions. You've been holding out on me. I need more time. Like hours or days."

He walked over and sat on the chair that faced her. "I'm glad you like them. I had to search far and wide, and in some cases beg excessively, but it was worth it."

"Oh, totally." He ran her fingers over the early 20th century literature.

"I like to think about the first time the books were purchased, who first picked it off the shelf. And then what happened. Was it passed from one family member to the next? Or sold in a yard sale? Or donated?"

She nodded and agreed as she held one. "Who else has sat on a comfy chair and poured over this?"

"So you get it. I'm not surprised."

She looked at him. "You're not?"

"You were content to go home and read tonight, apparently. It makes sense you'd appreciate rare books."

"Hey," she said, standing and walking toward him. "I was just trying to get you to invite me over."

"Is that so?" he asked, smiling. "In that case, shall we read together?"

She shook her head in playful frustration. "You're an ass, you know that?"

"Whoa! The gloves come off."

"You're being so pompous right now. You must realize it." She crossed her arms.

"Okay, I will admit it is kind of fun to see you riled up."

"Thank you for admitting it. In the spirit of honesty, I will admit that your confidence is kind of sexy."

He stood. "Kind of?"

"That's what I said, yes."

"Your confidence," he said, put a strand of her hair behind her ear, "is absolutely sexy."

She tilted her head into his hand and stepped closer to him, uncrossing her arms and putting them low around his waist. Before she had a chance to really embrace him, he leaned down, hooked his arm under he knees and she found herself being held like a child.

"We can read later," he said, kissing her and walking her to his bedroom.

There wasn't time for reading, though. After they thoroughly made up for lost time, twice, they both fell asleep after a busy work week. Olivia woke at 7:15 the next morning to complete darkness except for a sliver of light coming from the bathroom connected to Fitz's room. She fumbled for a light, and then realized he had black out shades on his windows. Raising one, she had to squint to adjust to the autumn morning sun.

Fitz exited the bathroom and put his arms around her from behind and kissed her neck.

"Morning," he said. "How'd you sleep?"

She turned around and faced him, and he kept his arms around her waist.

"Well, thanks. You?"

"Same. I'm going to grab some granola and head out. Please help yourself to anything in the kitchen. There are towels for you on the shelf in the bathroom. They're new. I ordered them and they were kind of scratchy so I washed them and they're nice and fluffy now. Sorry, I'm rambling."

"You bought me towels?"

"I bought you towels."

"When will you be done today?" she asked cautiously. She didn't want to sound too desperate to see him again. She wasn't. But she was hopeful.

"I hope by late afternoon. And," he trailed off.

"What is it?" she asked.

"Are you free later? You never got the set tour, and the film is less than a month away from being finished. I hoped maybe you'd still be interested in seeing where I've been spending my time."

She smiled. They were on the same page.

"Yes."

He smiled. "So I'll call you when I'm done?"

"Sure."

"Feel free to swim, cook, read, whatever."

"Oh," she said, somewhat startled. She had been planning on doing a personal walk of no-shame back to her apartment.

"I mean, you're more than welcome to stay. You don't have to. But you're welcome."

He unhooked himself from her and walked to the kitchen. It might be irrational, but he really wanted her to stay. He liked the idea of her being in his home. But he didn't want to push it.

"I'd love to have my way with the pool and the books, but I don't have any clothes, so I'll have to go home at some point."

He downed a quick glass of water and set the glass in the dishwasher.

"Whatever you want. Hopefully you'll hear from me around 3:30 or 4:00. I'll text you the address."

She nodded.

"It's good to see you," he said, kissing her softly on the cheek. "It had been too long."

"It had," she said, running her hand through his hair. He sighed.

"Mmmm,"he moaned. "I don't want to leave you."

"Go," she said. "I'll see you this afternoon. And it's good to see you too, Fitz."

They shared one more kiss and he quietly let himself out of his apartment.

Later that day, Olivia finished brushing her hair and heard her phone vibrate from her coffee table. She had showered at Fitz's place, because his bathroom was admittedly much more comfortable and luxurious than hers. The steam shower had been amazing, and the towels were the perfect amount of fluffy. She ate some granola and yogurt at his place, cleaned the kitchen and left. She felt silly for cleaning, but she had so much nervous energy that it had just sort of happened without thinking.

In Queens, Fitz stared at his phone waiting for her reply. It was exactly the time had told her, and that made him happy, because he wanted to prove to her that whatever this was – were they dating? was it a blossoming relationship? – could work. He could make plans and keep them. And he really wanted to. Seeing her again and had been better than he had imagined over the two weeks they had been apart, and he had imagined her a lot. But he had also settled into a routine of work, sleep, and missing her, and he hated to admit the truth: that though he missed her, and was incredibly happy to have seen her again, the missing her had sort of become his normal. And because it allowed him to continue living his life the way he liked, it had worked for him.

Fitz was smart, though. He recognized he was going to have to make some adjustments, be flexible, if he wanted to pursue something with Olivia. He also knew that missing her would likely overpower his contentment with his solitude at some point. He could already feel it happening, slowly. He was just assuming that he was going to have to get there a little quicker so he didn't lose her.

He was surprised that the idea of picking up his pace to match hers didn't scare him. That in and of itself was enough to make him understand that she was different than anyone he had seen in his 20s. He had had two relationships, and both times he had felt an immense amount of pressure to be the perfect boyfriend. In the defense of the women he had dated, both of whom were generally lovely people, they had simply been asking for more attention and effort than he had been willing to give. He hadn't really considered for a second that he should make an adjustment to his life when they had both been forced to give him an ultimatum: start making an effort, or go back to being single. In both of those situations, the decision had been easy.

It would not be easy to leave Olivia. It was hard enough leaving her in the morning when he knew they were going to see each other again the same day. She replied to his text, and he went to his trailer to wash off his makeup and change back into his own clothes.

40 minutes later, there was a knock at the door, and a production assistant announced her self and "Ms. Pope." Fitz called for them to come in.

"Anything else you need, Mr. Grant?"

"No, Haley, thanks."

"Enjoy your day," she said, nodding and closing the door to the trailer behind her.

"I do not make them call me Mr. Grant," he said as he closed the gap between himself and Olivia.

"Sure you don't," she said giggling.

He wrapped his arms around her and squeezed.

"Missed you," he said, honestly.

"Me too. Thanks for earlier," she said, glancing around. The trailer was like a smaller version of his bedroom. Blues and greys, simple, comfortable, relaxed.

"For what? I left you."

"You left me with an incredible shower, amazing towels," she winked at him, "and a lovely walk home. Trust me, it could have been much worse."

This led to a funny conversation about previous walks of shame. Not that she had many stories to tell, but she had a few. Fitz shared a story about he and Oliver trying to sneak home one summer after spending an entire night out. Fitz checked his watch and realized half an hour had passed.

"We better get going before everything gets closed down," he said, grabbing his sunglasses. "Ready?"

The simple gesture of turning at the door and offering her his hand almost took her breath away. Her look of surprise and happiness did the same to him.

They strolled the set. Fitz showed her different backdrops, and they goofed around in front of a green screen. He casually introduced her to an assistant director and an editor. It was her first time on a movie set, and she found it intriguing. She closed her eyes and tried to picture what it would like brought to life, and then wondered the same aloud.

"Well, when it premieres, we'll find out," Fitz answered.

"When will that be?"

"They're shooting for Memorial Day. It'll be in L.A., probably. We could make a weekend of it, though, go for walks and spend time at the ocean after the actual premiere night. Before that I'll probably have to do a press tour. There's a lot of promotion expected for this film."

She took a moment to decipher all that he had said. She couldn't help but focus on his idea, that they would be together in May, eight months from now. She took a deep breath. Planning that far ahead would normally suit her just fine, because she liked having a plan. But this particular plan scared her. In a good way, but she was still scared.

"That sounds nice," was all she could muster.

Fitz finished showing her around, and then shared a kiss on a piece of set that depicted an old library.

"This is fitting," she whispered as he held her.

"What is?"

"We just made out in a library, and last night we almost did the same in yours."

He guffawed then, and just about doubled over with laughter.

"I hadn't thought of it. But what does it say about us that books put us in the mood?" he asked, taking her hand again.

"We're highly intellectual, obviously," she said.

"Of course," he said, taking one step toward her and then in one motion picking her up and throwing her over his shoulder.

"Fitz! You're crazy. I'm going to crush you. Put me down."

"This is how highly intellectual people get around," he said, making his way toward his trailer.

"I'm so embarrassed," she squealed, smacking his behind and laughing.

"Keep doing that and I'll just carry you like this from now on," he said.

She put one of her hands in his back pocket and relented. He was strong, and his arm was wrapped around her thighs, and there was nothing she could do about it.

Later, as they lay in a heap on the tiny couch in his trailer, sweaty and out of breath, she finally broke.

"Earlier, you mentioned Memorial Day."

He kissed her shoulder. "Yeah."

"You're okay to just say, 'hey, let's get together for Memorial Day weekend?'"

"Why wouldn't I be?" he asked, trying to sit up. He wasn't being purposely obtuse. He was missing her point.

"It seems far away right now. We haven't really talked it, but …" she trailed off, and it hit him.

"Liv, I'm sorry. I wasn't making assumptions, I was just talking. And maybe hoping a little bit. But we can take it one day at a time. That's probably better for me anyway."

"One, don't apologize. Two, what do you mean, better for you?"

He sighed. "One day at a time seems less daunting, that's all. I haven't been in a relationship in a while, so I don't really know what I'm doing. It's only going to get more complicated. But I don't want to stop seeing you, so I'm hoping we can figure this out."

She contemplated that while she brushed some of his curls off of his forehead.

"Look," he said, shifting so that they were sitting cross-legged and facing each other. "I realized earlier that I want this work. I want to figure it out. We don't have to define it. In fact, it might have a better chance of working if we don't. But I'm willing to try, to listen to what you need, if you want to."

"Of course I want to," she said, rolling her eyes.

"It's not that obvious, Liv!" he said exasperatedly. "I'm not an easy person to be around, all of the time, and my life can be kind of unpredictable. I don't live in New York full time. I like to be alone. Why on earth would you want to be with me?"

"You're kidding right? Please tell me that was rhetorical."

"I mean, it wasn't, but if it makes you mad, we can pretend it was."

"Okay, Fitz. I'm only going to say this once. For starters, if we're going to build something, you have to stop tip-toeing around me. I'm not perfect, and despite the way I can come off I don't expect everyone around e to be perfect either."

He nodded.

"And stop apologizing when you don't need to. Ask me questions. Say what you mean. I'm trying to do the same thing. Asking for what I want, having realistic expectations."

He looked at her, staying silent.

"I want to try and be with you. I have no idea how we're going to do it. But I want to try."

He exhaled. "Thank God," he said, leaning over and kissing her.

They didn't know how they were going to do it, but they were going to try.


	9. Chapter 9

By mid-October, Olivia and Fitz had settled into a routine. For them. Normally, routines for Olivia were structured to the minute. This relationship Fitz wasn't that, but it was something.

While he had finished filming his movie, Fitz had made every attempt to spend his free time with her. He would text after a late night and see if she was still up, at first, but when that happened enough times in a row, he started just showing up. He was now what he would consider closely acquainted with Harold, Olivia's doorman. When he would show up at 2:00 in the morning the fifth night in a row, Harold would be holding the door to the elevator for him before he was halfway through the lobby. With the key Olivia had given him, he would let himself in, take a shower and crawl into bed beside his girlfriend.

Olivia was busy most weekdays until at least 5:00, because she coached swimming and liked to stay after to meet with students if they needed her. That left precious time in the evening if Fitz had the night off. Once the filming was over, they would text during the day and decide on a place and time for dinner. Often it was at one of their homes. Occasionally they would meet a neighborhood spot.

On Columbus Day, Olivia had the day off of work, so they started their day at a coffee shop. They had spent the night before drinking wine and playing Scrabble. For both of them, it had been the perfect evening.

"You know what I wanted to do this morning? Confirm that 'zen' is not an allowable Scrabble word," Olivia said as she sipped her espresso.

Fitz looked up from his New York Times. "Isn't any word that is, in fact, a word, allowable?"

Olivia rolled her eyes. "He we go again."

Mornings like this were treasured. Being able to just be together, with no looming meeting or activity to rush them. Olivia loved being with Fitz this way. It was easier than she could have imagined at the beginning. It had only been a few months, but they seemed far away from the worries of the early days. But she was also practical, and she knew this feeling of ease could not last forever.

Fitz knew this, too. He loved being with Olivia in New York. He had a lot of extra time now that the movie had finished, and he had six weeks before he had to start promoting the drama he had filmed last year. It had been good to just be here, and available, whenever she was. But he was starting to feel antsy. Even when he was in the midst of sleep with his arm around Liv's waist, he was picturing his home in Hawaii. He had wanted to redo some of the landscaping around the pool. He missed his meditation coach. He missed the feeling of the cold tile on his feet after a day spent on the sand. So even though he loved being here, it was Olivia that had kept him here for this long. And as much as they talked, and as honest as they were with each other, he hadn't yet figured out a way to tell her that he was feeling the urge to go away. He knew it would sound like he wanted to be away from her, and that wasn't the case. He didn't consider himself a city person, and this city in particular held memories that he preferred to leave in the past.

Lately, Oliver had been everywhere. In the park where he stopped to eat a caramel apple. At the symphony where they used to sneak in as undergrads, except now Fitz was a paying customer. Fitz figured he was feeling Oli more because he was in New York, the last city they had shared.

He mentioned this to his sister Juliette who was in town for a friend's bachelorette party, but had made time to have dinner with her brother before the festivities began. They were eating Indian food in the West Village, again at a place where they had been before with Oliver.

"Do you remember when Oli spilled the pitcher of water all over our food?" Fitz asked as he poured them each a glass.

Juliette smiled. "He was so wasted."

"He was." Fitz paused then. Was that before being wasted had become Oli's status quo? He couldn't remember.

"We all were, remember? We had gone to a festival in Brooklyn or something. I was underage so we had water bottles filled with some vile concoction."

"You're right. Wow, I had forgotten the details of that day."

"It can be hard to remember the good details," she said, looking directly at Fitz the way only a sibling could.

Fitz was thinking about that, about how so few of the good New York details were remembered.

"Penny for your thoughts, sir," she said, setting down her copy of Vogue and looking at him inquisitively.

"It's going to cost you more than a penny," he said, smiling. He was stalling, and they both knew it.

"I'm prepared to pay up."

"You know, I realize I've mentioned this before, but you are incredibly persuasive. And you have a way with words that makes me spill. It's very disarming. I mean, I love it, but it's somewhat terrifying."

She nodded. "Thanks for the compliment, I guess?"

"You're welcome. How do you feel about a swim?"

Fitz had kept the pool clean and warm since he began seeing Liv. Even now, on a chilly October day, a swim would be fun and refreshing.

"I could swim. I could also sip my warm beverage, pay you a penny and hear your thoughts."

This was the time to tell Olivia he had asked his sometimes-assistant to book him a first class ticket to Kauai that departed just after Thanksgiving. It was a little over a month away. Olivia deserved to know. He would do his best to explain it.

"Liv, I want you know," he began, until he heard the same gasp and squeal combination that meant someone had recognized him.

He was polite and took a photograph with the couple who were big fans of his work. By the time it was all over, the moment to tell Olivia had passed. They packed up their things in Olivia's large leather tote and walked hand in hand back to Fitz's home.

Olivia had a bathing suit there, so they changed and spent a few hours relaxing by the pool. Later, as the toweled each off after sharing a shower, it occurred to Olivia that they hadn't finished their earlier conversation.

"Were you thinking about Oli earlier?"

She wanted to scold herself at first. She knew that being this direct about such a sensitive topic would catch Fitz off guard. But she also knew it would get him talking.

"I'm sorry, what?" he asked as he slipped a seafoam t-shirt over his head.

"Well, I asked if you were thinking about Oli earlier. But you should also know you look really good in that shirt," she said, smiling.

"You got it for me," he said, toweling his hair dry.

"Doesn't change anything," she said, buttoning her black jeans. "We have good taste."

He sat down on the edge of his bed.

"I don't know how to say this, so I'm just going to say it."

She walked over and sat next to him on the bed. He turned to face her and grabbed one of her hands, rubbing circles on top with his thumb.

"I'm happier with you than I've been in as long as I can remember. What I'm about to say might make you doubt that, so I just need to put that out there."

"What the hell is going on?" she said, pulling her hand away. Her defense mechanisms were kicking in. Had she been wrong about Fitz just like she had been wrong about so many others?

"Nothing's going on, not really," he said, reaching for her again. "I've been trying to figure out a way to explain this for a few days, but here it is. I'm going to my place in Kauai at the end of November. I usually go there as soon as my business here is done. I'm still having fun here, and I'm happy with you, but I can feel myself getting anxious to be there, instead."

Olivia searched his face as she processed what he had said. She took a breath, trying to be the new her, the Liv that trusted Fitz, that knew his feelings were real, the he didn't want her to be anyone else.

She was just having difficulty reconciling that with the news that he was anxious to be away from her. She said as much.

"Liv, no. I don't want to be away from you. In a perfect world, you would come with me and we would just be together every day. It's this place. I both love and hate it here, you know that."

"I do know that. I'm trying to be sensitive to that. But can you please be sensitive to how I feel in the moment? Which is that I'm already lonely thinking about us being apart?"

He sighed. "I know. You're right. I'm sorry I didn't talk to you before I had my assistant book the tickets. I just knew how it would end so I put it off."

"Oh, so you mean that no matter what I say or do, you're going? This isn't a discussion. This is you telling me how life is and will be. What's best for you is all that matters." She could feel her heart beating faster. She willed her eyes to stay focus and empty of tears.

"It sounds pretty dismal when you put it that way."

She jumped off of the bed and faced him.

"I'm putting it exactly how it is, Fitz. You're anxious, so you're leaving. With little or no regard for how that might affect me, and our relationship."

"I am constantly thinking about how what I say and do will affect you," he said, on the verge of frustration. He felt like a child having a hard time communicating, like he didn't yet have the words to get his message across.

"You have a fucked up way of showing it," she said, walking out his bedroom.

"Liv, come on," he said, following her down the hallway toward the family room. "Other than right now, in the last two months, have I ever said or done anything to make you feel like you weren't the most important person in my life here?"

She analyzed his question. And because she was who she was, she jumped on the one word that she could.

"Your life here. Here. Like you have separate lives. The one here, that you put up with because I make you feel good, and the one there," she said, waving her hands as if to say 'anywhere but here,' "where you're comfortable and not anxious and happier."

"Stop it. That is unfair."

"Unfair? That's rich," she said, grabbing her tote. "Sorry, Fitz. You don't get to be the decider of what is fair or unfair. Fair would be us having a discussion, as adults in relationships tend to do, about how to address how you've been feeling. Fair would be you respecting me enough to do that before you booked your one-way ticket."

"Okay. We need to hit pause here. I want to address what you're saying, everything you're saying, but I need a minute to think. Please put your bag down. Please. Just give me one minute."

His eyes were pleading with her. She wanted to reach out and embrace him, and that instinct shocked her. Even as she stood infuriated and ready to bail, she wanted to hold him. It was that feeling that made it easier for her to set her bag on the coffee table and sit down on the couch.

He flopped next to her and grabbed her hand. He brought it to his mouth and kissed it softly.

"I have always had separate lives. My career, and then the rest. I function best when it is compartmentalized. You are absolutely right about that."

She waited. He still held her hand in his lap.

He nodded, as if he had been thinking in his head and decided to continue. "I do need to figure out what it means to have a partner in this. The last time I ever had to really think about another person…" he trailed off, and turned his face from her.

When he turned his face back toward her, his eyes were rimmed in red and he was fighting back tears.

"The last time I ever had to really think about another person, it was all-consuming, and I failed. And I get that it was my brother, so it's not technically the same thing, but that's what it feels like. I put so much effort into trying to save him. To keep him. And I lost him. Here. In this place. So there," he said, waving his hand to reference the place where he felt like he could breathe, "has just been safer for me."

She wet her lips and opened her mouth to respond, but he stopped her by continuing.

"It is not fair to you that I just made this decision and expected that we would work around it. You're right. I'm truly sorry. I just did what I always do. That's not an excuse, it's just what happened. I'm sorry that it comes across as me not respecting you, because that is the farthest thing from the truth."

He turned his whole body toward her. He rested his elbow on the top of the couch, and his head on his hand. In his mind, and in his heart, he knew he had to just press onward, even if it had only been two months. Even if it was all going to end because of who he was at his core.

"The truth, Liv, is what I said in the bedroom. I am happier than I have been in years. That is not an exaggeration. Years. I know I have a long way to go when it comes to sharing my life with someone, but what you're getting is more than anyone has gotten. Because it's what you deserve. And it's what I want to give. You're incredibly special to me. I don't want to lose you."

She matched his pose and smiled the faintest of smiles.

"What are we going to do?" she asked. It's what she was thinking. He had just said a lot of sweet things, and she knew he meant them. But it didn't change his plans. She was there with him, which is more than the pre-Fitz Olivia would have done. She wasn't ready to return his sentiments, at least out loud.

He played with one her curls, still wet from the shower.

"I don't know."

It wasn't lost on either of them that he wasn't offering to change his plans.

"Maybe we need to hit pause, like you said. Maybe we should both think about what a long-distance relationship looks and feels like." She sat up straight, hoping a power posture would make look much more confident than she felt.

"Is that what you want?"

She looked him straight in the eyes. "Does it matter?"

He crossed his arms. "Now who's being unfair? Of course it matters."

She sighed. "You're right. I'm sorry. And I know you're sorry. I'm just processing this. I don't know what to do."

"I do not want to hit pause. I want to figure this out."

"From Kauai."

"It's temporary."

"How long will you be gone?"

"I don't know. Let's decide together."

"When do you have business here?"

"I have to be in LA the second week of January. New York the following week."

She did the math. "So, seven weeks, give or take. And work is what will bring you back."

"Work. And you," he said, reaching for her. She pulled away.

"Almost two months apart is only the amount of time we've been together."

They both sat quietly after her statement.

"Look, Fitz," she said, sliding back to be sitting right next to him. "I don't generally respond well to not having control of a situation. This is really hard for me. And trying to be with you when you aren't here will be really hard for me. For us. We've had this conversation once before. We said we would try. But it's really our only good option, right? The alternative is we don't try. I'm willing to try."

"I'm sorry I put us in this position. I wish the timing were better. Or different."

"For the record," she said, resting her cheek on his chest, "there will never be a better time for you to be away. I like you here."

It was the most she could offer him. She wished she had enough faith in the future to tell him the she reciprocated his feelings. That he was special to her, too. That what they were building felt real and different. That, two months in, he was her favorite person. But she couldn't. She was willing to try to make it work, but she wasn't willing to give him her heart. And sadly, she knew that was because she didn't fully trust him not to break it.


	10. Chapter 10

"You are such an idiot."

Fitz rolled his eyes. He was talking to his sister Madeline on the phone as he finished packing for Kauai. They tried to talk at least once a month, which was difficult enough to maintain since she was a doctor with two kids.

"Thanks, Mad. That's super sweet of you."

"You've had what you just described to me as, and I quote, a fantastic fucking month, with your seemingly amazing girlfriend. You're an idiot."

"We are figuring it out! We have a schedule. We'll talk every day."

"You have a schedule. How romantic." Now she was the one rolling her eyes.

"It's worth a shot, right?"

"I don't know Fitzwilliam. Is it?"

He rolled his eyes again, and smiled, at her using the name she had called him after reading Pride and Prejudice.

"Of course it is. Hence the schedule."

"I don't know," Madeline said, trailing off.

"What? Just say it."

"I'm concerned that you're blowing this, dear brother. I'm concerned that you can't see the forest through the trees. I'm concerned that you're escaping New York at the expense of your first real shot at love."

The Grant women had been raised to share their opinions. He had asked. It still stung.

"Hate to say this, but this whole plan is pretty idiotic."

Olivia was having dinner with her coworker Abigail. She agreed, the plan was idiotic. But she still felt the way she had when Fitz had sprung this on her. She felt powerless. She couldn't make him stay, but she didn't want him to go.

"Abs, I know it's not ideal. But what can I do?" she said, taking a sip of her wine.

"You can tell him to man up! New York is great. It's extra great if you have a custom penthouse that you never have to leave and a smoking hot and brilliant girlfriend. Boo hoo. Fitz Grant, grow a pair."

Olivia laughed heartily, but also felt a shot of guilt for laughing when she knew why Fitz wanted to go. She hadn't shared all of the details with Abigail. They were personal and he had shared them with her when he was emotionally vulnerable.

"It's a great apartment," she agreed.

"Blah blah the apartment. YOU are great! Why the hell is he leaving all the greatness?"

"He's not leaving me. We're going to do the long-distance thing."

Abs sighed. "Right. I just don't know," she said, trailing off.

"What? Just say it."

"I'm worried you aren't cut out for a long-distance thing. I'm worried you're going to try and give up. I'm worried you're going to give up on your first real shot at love."

Olivia had asked, and Abigail had answered. Olivia was worried, too.

Fitz and Olivia had had a lovely month together. She thought about their last date as she took a bus downtown to his apartment. He had texted to say he was finished packing, and they were going to watch a movie.

Their last date had been to a hole-in-the-wall sushi restaurant and a walk through Central Park and the Upper West Side. It was mid-November, and some businesses had started putting up their holiday decorations. It was blustery, so they had huddled together, walking down the streets each with an arm around the other. Fitz had been wearing a wool hat, which Olivia had adored for two reasons. One, he flopped just right and his curls stuck out at the bottom. He had grown his hair during his break from work. Two, it was a natural disguise.

They had stopped to sit on a bench and eat some nuts from a sidewalk stand.

"Does your beach house come with sidewalk snacks?" she asked as she brushed crumbs off of his shoulder.

"It does not," he said.

"Better stay then," she said. She couldn't help herself.

"Yes. I will stay for the snacks. Why didn't you say something sooner?"

She shrugged.

He put his arm around her and pulled her close. She swung her legs and laid them across his lap.

"This is nice," he said, sighing.

She nodded. He could feel it on his chest.

They sat in a peaceful silence.

Fitz was thinking: I don't want to go.

Olivia was thinking: I can't ask him to stay.

That night, they had slept in their respective beds because Olivia had to be uptown early for work.

This night, the last before Fitz's flight, Olivia and Fitz laid on the couch under a blanket. They had only stuck with the movie for 20 minutes before their clothes were off. It was their last night together, and they had decided to keep it simple and normal. That meant Olivia straddling Fitz on the couch, gripping the top of it while he held onto her hips. It had been slow, and sensual, and except for when they were both overcome with lust, they had looked into each other's eyes the entire time.

Now, they were cuddled under the blanket, their bodies touching everywhere, staring at the ceiling.

"Liv," Fitz said, catching his breath.

"Hmmm," she mumbled, placing a soft kiss on his chest.

"I don't want to leave you," he said, running his hand through her silky hair.

"I don't want you to, either," she said, tracing a circle around his nipple.

"That tickles. I'm being serious," he said, nibbling her ear.

"I'm serious too," she said, placing her thigh in between his legs, and feeling that he was ready again, just as she was.

They ended up in bed. Fitz laughed softly to himself as they snuggled together under the sheets she had helped him select. The same brand that he preferred, soft and cool, but a bright white instead of dark grey.

"What's so funny?" she asked, lacing her fingers through his.

"You are," he said, kissing her nose. "I'm about to pour my heart out and you go Wild Pope on me."

"That sounds like the next the church scandal," she said, giggling.

"You're doing it again! You're deflecting with humor. I think you learned this from me, and I'm sorry."

She propped herself up on her elbow and sighed.

"Anything I have learned from you has changed my life for the better. I can take a compliment now. I can go with the flow. Kind of."

He nodded. "Kind of." He smiled.

"I trust you." She looked at him directly in the eyes when she said this. It was disarming and he didn't know how to respond.

"That's a big deal. Trust doesn't come easy to me. I'm skeptical of everyone. I've allowed myself to be changed for the worse and controlled and taken advantage of. I trust that you wouldn't do that."

"Of course I wouldn't," Fitz said earnestly.

"I know. And I don't think you're escaping from me. I really don't. But tonight, these past few months, they've been wonderful. When I'm alone and I get sad thinking about trying to make this work, I start to go back there."

"Liv, I get it. But I'm not taking advantage of you. I don't want you to be anyone else. I'm not asking for us to stay together so I can go to Hawaii and see if anything else comes along. I'm not. I wouldn't. I couldn't."

This was her exact fear.

"I understand your fear. I do. But here's the thing. I love you. I probably have all along. I definitely do now. I'm an idiot for leaving. I wish I could have trusted how this felt then to know that I would be regretting it now. I'm an idiot. But I have to go."

She opened her mouth to respond, but he continued.

"The house has been opened. I have some much-needed appointments scheduled. I have the holidays with my family. Not going would mess up the lives of a lot of people. I know going messes up your life, and mine, and ours, and I'm an idiot. I just hope that I'm enough. That we can sort this out. It's all I want."

He finally exhaled. She studied him for a heartbeat.

"I love you, too." She smiled. The biggest smile he had seen from her in the three months they had been together.

"Yeah?" he said, feeling himself smiling back.

"Yeah." She nodded.

She brought her forehead down to his. "Fitz Grant, you have surprised me in so many ways. I don't want it to end."

"Neither do I."

They kissed, not at the frantic pace that sometimes swept them away, but slowly. He nibbled on her lip and she lifted her chin to let him do the same to his neck.

"It would be a total movie star move if you gave me a hickey before skipping town," she said.

He laughed and it tickled her neck. "For once, I'm going to act like a movie star."

The next morning, Olivia popped the collar of her white faux fur vest as she waited for Fitz in the kitchen. She was dressed comfortably – for her – in black leggings, and a white shirt and vest. It was early, but she wanted to see him off. He had offered her his place while he was gone. She had passed, but she didn't want their goodbye to be on the street in front of the doorman and the taxi driver. She did have keys just in case she felt like browsing his library or taking a swim. He was keeping the pool maintained while he was gone, mostly for Olivia but also so that someone was checking in regularly. It was what he always did.

What was different about this trip and unlike what he always did was that he lingered. He got ready slowly. He wasn't anxious to get to the airport and on his way. He had purposely woken up early to try and savor the time with Olivia.

"Two months," he said as he met her in the kitchen. She handed him a travel mug of coffee. They had already had a cup together in bed.

"Two months," she said, squaring her shoulders and going for the power, confident pose again.

"I love you," he said, putting his arms around her waist. She put hers around his neck.

"And I love you. I can't wait to see you with long hair and a tan."

"I can't wait to see you, period."

"I'll be here."

They kissed one more time and held each other, standing in the middle of Fitz's kitchen.

"Seriously," he said as he picked up his backpack. "Stay here. Cook here. Swim here. Whatever you want."

Her eyes filled with tears. She had held it together as long as she could.

"Shit," she said, using her sleeve to dab at her cheeks. "This sucks. And it must really suck for me to be saying those two words in the same breath. Say good bye to Eloquent Olivia."

He smiled, albeit sadly.

"It totally sucks."

"So don't go."

There it was. She had finally said what she had been holding in for weeks. It was as if now that he was standing there with a backpack and a travel mug, it was safe to admit that she loved him and wanted him to stay.

His shoulders slumped a little and he rubbed his cheek.

"I don't mean that. Not really. Of course I don't want you to go. But I understand why you are. It's two months. I'm just really going to miss you." There went her dry eyes again. She bit her lip.

"I'll miss you too. Thanks for putting up with my bullshit. While I'm away I'll try to get it together."

"Stop it. Don't go back to being self-deprecating now. I love you and we will do our best to make this work."

He stood back and took a photo of her with his phone. "I love you too."

"I should go," he said, hitching his backpack nervously and sliding his phone into his pocket.

"You should go," she said, getting on her tiptoes to give him a kiss.

They held hands and walked to the door. He kissed her one more time.

"I'll talk to you when I get there."

She nodded.

He couldn't say goodbye. See you later. See you soon. So he just walked to the elevator. She stood in the doorway. The elevator doors opened and he stepped in. She was about to close the door to his apartment when she heard him call her name.

"I forgot to mention," he said, poking his head out of the elevator. "You're going to need new shampoo."

"What do you mean?" she asked incredulously.

"I took both bottles from the bathroom. Figure I can make that last until I can have the real thing again."

She took the three long steps to the elevator and almost knocked him over as she threw her arms around him. He inhaled her freshly washed hair and she kissed behind his ear. They whispered their shared feelings one more time, and then she stood on the other side of the elevator doors as they closed.

"Merry Christmas," Fitz said, just after midnight eastern standard time.

Olivia rolled over in her bed at her parents' apartment and rubbed her eyes. "Merry Christmas, baby," she said. "How's the dinner going?"

Fitz filled her in on the details of the meal he was cooking with his sisters. It was a Grant family tradition.

"How was your dinner?" he asked. Olivia filled him on her Christmas Eve, which had been filled with extended family and friends. The holiday itself was reserved just for her parents. It would be slow and pleasant and relaxed.

"It was nice. Kind of loud. A lot of people asking if I've had any luck finding a suitable man. The usual."

"I hope you said no. I'm completely unsuitable."

"I said I had been dating and had some prospects."

Fitz sighed. "Three weeks and I'll give you some prospects."

"Talk dirty to me," she said, laughing.

They chatted for a while longer and then hung up with promises to talk tomorrow.

Olivia laid in bed for over an hour after their conversation. Both of her parents, who knew she was seeing Fitz, and Abigail who always had an opinion, had repeatedly asked her why she hadn't gone to Hawaii for the holidays. The easy answer, the one she gave, was that when she would have had to book the ticket, she and Fitz had only been together for a few months. Still it had only been four. But when she stopped and thought about it, it occurred to her that one of the perks of dating a movie star – and as much as Fitz tried to deny it, he was a movie star – was that he had financial capabilities that she didn't. She tried incredibly hard not to judge him for not asking her to visit. Maybe he had the same thought she did, that it was too soon in the relationship to spend the holidays together. She was too polite to bring it up. Hey, I miss you, can you buy me a plane ticket to Hawaii? That was not Olivia's style.

She spent the next morning sipping coffee and reading. Her father had a fire in the fireplace and her mom was working on puzzle she had received as a gift.

"Have you spoken to Fitz this morning?" her mother asked, not looking up.

"We talked last night. He called me around dinnertime, his time. It's still pretty early there."

Her mom didn't say anything in response.

"He was roasting a pig in his front yard. It sounds like a big production," Olivia continued.

"Indeed it does."

"What's going on, Mom? Why are you speaking so cryptically?"

"I'm not, sweetie. I'm just inquiring."

Olivia sighed and glanced at her dad. He was watching his wife and daughter over the top of the world atlas he was perusing, also a gift. He gave her a wink.

Olivia didn't have it in her to continue the discussion with her mom. The weeks without Fitz had been tough, but they had managed. She knew her mom was leery of her being in a relationship with someone famous. Someone famous who had seemingly up and left. But she also knew her mom trusted her judgment. Well, she hoped that she did.

A little later, maybe a few minutes, maybe an hour, she felt her cell phone buzz in the pocket of her cashmere lounge sweater. She closed her book, moved her coffee cup to the table and clicked the button to wake up her device.

What she saw confused her. She started at it long enough that her phone fell back asleep and she had to press the button again.

It was a picture of the outside of her parents' apartment building. There was a light dusting of snow on the ground, so she guessed it was recently. The photo was of the doorman, holding four bags of the roasted peanuts you can buy on the sidewalk.

"What in God's name?" she wondered aloud. The text was from Fitz.

She looked at her dad, who was engrossed in his atlas. Her mom kept her head down, looking at the puzzle.

The buzzer that connected the doorman to the apartment buzzed. Everything started moving in slow motion. She got up and went to the front door.

"Yes, Kevin?"

"Merry Christmas, Ms. Pope. May I send up this delivery?"

"Merry Christmas to you as well," she said slowly. "Sure?"

"Thank you, ma'am. Enjoy."

She stood by the door, staring at the buzzer.

"Mom? Dad? Did you guys order something?"

"Not for us, dear," her dad called.

She heard the elevator door open. Footsteps. A soft tap on the door. She looked through the peephole and could only see the peanuts. Her hand shook as she slowly undid both locks on the door. When it opened, her knees went weak and she had to tell herself to stay standing.

Fitz stood there looking as handsome as she had ever seen him. Maybe she was biased because it had been over a month. He was wearing dark jeans with brown leather boots that came up to his ankles. He had on a red sweater with a red and blue plaid shirt underneath, all under an army green winter coat. His hair was longer. He did have a tan. She could not reconcile those details with the fact that unless she was hallucinating, he was in New York. Two feet from her. Holding peanuts. Smiling.

"Hi," he said, eyes sparkling. "Merry Christmas."

"Hi," she said, still questioning if this was real.

Fitz took a bite of a peanut and smiled.

"What is going on?" she asked.

"I'll make you a deal," he said, swallowing his snack. "I'll tell you, right after you come a little closer so I can touch you and kiss you."

"Deal," she said, taking the nuts and putting them on the narrow table in the hallway.

She slowly stepped forward and put on hand on Fitz's chest, and he took the opportunity to grab her wrist and pull her to him. They both stumbled with the force of it and giggled. She put a hand on either side of his face and wrapped his arms around her and lifted her off of her feet. As if she didn't already feel like she was floating. She tipped her head toward him and kissed him.

It made her dizzy. Her head was spinning. They were both smiling through the kiss.

Fitz slowly lowered her to the floor and ran his hands through her hair.

"I missed you."

"I missed you too. What the hell are you doing here? You were just having a pig roast twelve hours ago."

"Right, so that was a lie."

Olivia's eyes widened.

"My family is here. Change of plans. We're celebrating here instead."

"Since when?"

"Since last week."

"Last week."

He nodded. "It was time to come back."

She tilted her a head to the side.

"I did what I needed to do. Now I'd like to spend Christmas with my girlfriend and our families."

This gave her butterflies.

"I'm sorry, I'm still trying to confirm this isn't a dream."

"Not a dream, babe," he said. Their nicknames – baby and babe – had formed over their nightly telephone conversations.

"I missed you so much, and now you're here." She put her hands on her hips. "And you fooled me."

"I did. It was worth it. You look stunning and like every fantasy I've had."

"Now you're full of it," she said laughing.

"Not at all. This is how I love you best."

"I'll keep that in mind the next time we go to the opera."

He leaned down and kissed her cheek. "May I come in?"

"Yes, of course." She turned and he followed, tapping her lightly on her bottom and causing her to squeal. Exactly how she had hoped to introduce her boyfriend to her parents. Sure, she was in her late twenties, but it was still nerve-wracking.

"I'm nervous," she said before they turned the corner into the family room.

"Me too," he said, kissing her again. "I've been nervous for a week."

They liked each other a lot. They loved each other. This was a big deal.


End file.
